Chapter XXVII A Loner No More

I woke from a better sleep and found it was mid-morning. I had not heard from either Andronikos or Ashara since the afternoon before, and I felt the need to find out what was happening, but first I needed to deal with finding a doctor. Reluctantly, I looked up Elios' com ID and patched through a call; audio only because I looked a mess.

"Well, well," his irritating voice echoed from the com with no holo image for him either.

Something about his confident tone made me want to cut to the chase. I did not want to talk to him any longer than necessary. "Elios, I'm dying and need a doctor."

There was a moment of silence and it pleased me, maybe we could get past his banter and have a decent conversation. "What's happened?" he finally replied.

"My body's rejecting my reattached arm and I only have a few more days before it becomes septic." Stating my condition out loud sobered my mood fast.

"Wow . . ." Elios sputtered. "This seems over my head, can I involve Watcher One?"

"Involve whoever you want, it can't get much worse."

"Let me see if I can reach him and I'll call you back."

"Fine," I said before cutting the com.

I started straightening myself up while I waited, showering, dressing, and trying to tame my hair. As I shuffled about my room, I grew more frustrated about calling Imperial Intelligence. It was only going to complicate things when I tried to disappear, and they were likely to expect favors in return, something I was not sure I wanted. My com chimed as I was tugging a brush through my hair with my left hand; a completely unnatural and unproductive effort. When I accepted the call, with video this time since I was more presentable, Watcher One appeared in the holo dressed in his dark Intelligence uniform.

"Lord Kallig," his sharp, accented voice addressed me. "It's good to see you again. Elios mentioned that you have an emergency."

"Unfortunately, yes," I replied.

"Elios is listening on the call, is that okay?"

"Sure," I grumbled.

"I'd like to keep him abreast of the situation in case I can't give you my fullest attention." Watcher One was politely telling me that I was stuck with Elios. "It seems the surgery on Quesh hasn't taken well, that's frustrating. Commander Trey spoke highly of Doctor Nbyang."

"I don't think it's her fault, it appears that my body is the problem."

"It sounds like you've had it checked, based on the detail you are providing."

"My captain, Andronikos, tried to help by scheduling an appointment with a cybernetic enhancement practitioner. He wanted to lop my arm off immediately and make me a cyborg. We compromised and I got one of these." I held up my mechanically gloved hand.

"I see," the watcher nodded. "Would you transfer your medical report to me, I'm pretty sure it will be stored on your com or the fancy glove you're wearing?"

"Wouldn't it be better to just connect me with a doctor on Nar Shaddaa?"

"Well," he hedged, "it will take time to work through channels to find an appropriate doctor on Nar Shaddaa, and I'm sure there are more qualified immunologists here on Dromund Kaas. If you send your records to me I might be able to get a doctor to look at them quickly. I actually have someone in mind that I trust."

"Very well," I replied, starting to fiddle with my com to find the information.

"If you don't mind me asking, how is your overall situation?"

"No sign of Thanaton," I stated, "which is a good thing because I'm in no condition to fight him. Until yesterday my hand was too painful to let me sleep well, and I'm dealing with several other problems."

"I see," Watcher One replied thoughtfully. "Would it help you to know that Thanaton was called to Korriban over the death of Lord Cineratus? The Dark Council has taken notice of the many untimely deaths among Lord Thanaton's staff, and he has been put under higher scrutiny, which will make it more difficult for him to challenge you."

"I suppose that's some consolation," I mumbled, "but I have no doubt that he's got people on Nar Shaddaa looking for me. I'm going to have to change locations soon." After searching for the medical files, I linked them to the active communication. "I've attached the medical files, by the way."

"Let me see . . . yes, they have just registered on my end. I'm going to make a couple of connections and get back to you soon, probably within a few hours. Can I or Agent Elios contact you freely?"

"If it ends up saving my hand, absolutely," I replied.

Watcher One appeared to be looking through the file I sent him. "I'm no doctor, but the diagnosis sounds serious and I'd like to address this as quickly as possible. The cybernetic implants for the glove seem to be recording medical data routinely, so the records are up to the moment. Is there anything else you would like to add for the doctor? Like changes to the way the hand feels, or the other complications you spoke of?"

"I can't feel the hand, so no change there."

"The glove isn't functioning?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The arm is causing so much pain that I have to put the analgesic on its highest level, which makes the limb numb. The cybernetic doctor told me his glove wouldn't work like that."

"I see, hopefully, we can help with some answers."

"Look," I sighed, "I know it's a favor . . . and I really appreciate you taking the call."

"Lord Kallig, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, so this is a chance to repay your kindness to me."

"You're going to make me feel bad for stealing your ship," I muttered.

"Is that what you plan to do with it?" he replied smoothly, "it's been sitting in a storage bay in low orbit for the past few days and I wondered whether you wanted us to take care of it for you?"

So they were tracking the ship. "To be honest, my focus has become rather myopic since I was told that I only had a week left to live. I've struggled to make any plans."

"With an injury as serious as yours, I can understand." Watcher One stated. He wasn't making any demands, which was refreshing.

"Actually, I am struggling with something else," I added before pausing, wondering how much about the artifacts and ghosts I should divulge.

"What is it? I might be able to help."

"It has to do with the Force, and I believe the solution can be found by investigating holocrons and some relics."

"Relics?" Watcher One replied, "are we talking Sith items from the past?"

"Ancient past," I added. "I need an expert to help decipher things, but it's got to be someone I can trust."

"Of course," Watcher One's holo image nodded. "How critical is this need? I assume that we should focus on your medical condition first."

"Honestly, I fear the trouble I'm having in the Force could be equally life-threatening."

"Would you happen to be talking about the item that your apprentice collected from Thanaton?" Elios interjected.

"That's part of it," I replied suspiciously, "Why?"

"Nothing," he answered quickly, "it's just that I believe Lord Vashcar is aware of the item and might be of help."

There was a pause in the conversation as everyone seemed deep in thought. It would be embarrassing if Lord Vashcar had been capable of accessing the holocron when I could not, but if that were the case, it could prove helpful. Unfortunately, that would draw another person into my plans.

"I know it's likely that you didn't get well acquainted with him," Watcher One broke the silence, "but I can assure you that Lord Vashcar is very capable and trustworthy. He's dedicated to the network which assisted you on Quesh."

There was the lead-in that I was worried about. I could not fault Elios or Watcher One for tying this all together. After all, they deserved something in return for helping me, but I was not sure I wanted to be a part of a faction against the Empire. His words seemed innocuous, but between the lines, I read; we help you, and you let Lord Vashcar in on what you're doing so we can fit you into our plans.

"About this 'network', as you call it. I don't know anything about it, its motivations, or what it expects from me. Are you a part of it?"

"In a peripheral way," Watcher One answered. "I assure you that my motivations and loyalty lie squarely with the Empire and the Emperor. The faction who helped you on Quesh approached me several months ago with compelling evidence that there is a rogue threat within the Sith hierarchy. There are elements, even on the Dark Council, who are disappointed with the Treaty of Coruscant. They wanted to continue the war until the complete destruction of our enemy. Cooler heads were aware of the cost of continuing the war, and the possibility that we could in fact lose if we overstretched the Empire's resources too far. The group that intervened on your behalf believes that Darth Thanaton is working with the war faction and that he is part of a plot to cause a return to hostilities. Distracting or reducing Thanaton's influence helps them, and you were providing that distraction."

"I know nothing about this war plot," I replied nervously.

"The network is aware of that."

"I don't trust them," I continued, "and I didn't ask them to intervene. I'm of half a mind that they helped Thanaton find me."

"I don't believe that to be true," Watcher One replied, "but I understand your reluctance to get involved. Like I said, my allegiance is to the Empire, not to any faction, but I can see the benefits of keeping the peace in place for the time being. Elios was right to consider Lord Vashcar, he could be helpful if you wish to consult him?"

"I don't know," I hedged.

"Take it into consideration," he replied. "For the time being, I will see if we can have your medical records reviewed."

"I appreciate your help."

"You should hear from me within a few hours."

The com was cut and I left my room to see what was happening in the penthouse. I made my way down the steps and entered the apartment to find it quiet. Hearing soft talking, I walked down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Andronikos' door was open, and he was sitting at his desk listening to a news feed.

"Hey," he said when noticing me standing in the doorway, "how are you doing?"

"Okay," I replied, stepping in to look at the screen he was watching. The images showed smoke and fire across a large cityscape. "What's going on?"

"The Empire just landed a division on Balmorra. They're talking about evidence that the Republic has been supplying the separatists and even has troops on the ground."

"We knew that several months ago when we were there," I stated, watching the feed show more explosions and refugees fleeing the city.

"This appears to be a major escalation. They're talking about breaches in the Treaty of Coruscant and the possibility of returning to war."

I thought about Watcher One and the faction trying to restart the war. Maybe this was their move. "This looks pretty serious."

"Yeah," Andronikos sighed. "They mentioned escalations on Taris and Alderaan too. Seems like the Galaxy's on fire." He glanced down at my gloved hand while he was talking. "How's the arm?"

"I called Watcher One and asked for help."

"Really," Andronikos answered in surprise. "Glad to hear it. What did he have to say?"

"He's sending my chart to a doctor that he trusts."

"That's a start," he nodded, but his eyes did not show very much confidence. "Did he give you any news on Darth Thanaton?"

"Thanaton's been called to Korriban to answer to the Dark Council over Cineratus' death. Apparently, too many of his subordinates have died in the last few months. The watcher didn't indicate that we were in any danger here, but he did know the location of his ship."

"I kinda figured that, even after spiking the control panel. So, does he want it back?"

I shrugged at the question. "He didn't ask for it."

"Why not give it back?" Andronikos offered. "It would be a sign of goodwill, and I don't see why we need it."

"I want to keep my options open at the moment," I replied thoughtfully. "Have you seen the padawan?"

"She made breakfast this morning, but I haven't seen her since." Andronikos eyed me curiously. "You look a little calmer this morning - if you don't mind me saying."

"I slept better last night, and I'm hopeful that Watcher One's doctor gives me some good news."

His com pad lit up while I was talking and he looked over at it. "I'd like to meet up with a couple of friends this afternoon. Do you have a problem with that?"

"As long as it doesn't compromise our situation, I don't care."

"I've been sneaking around longer than you," he grinned.

"Who are these friends?" I asked suspiciously.

"Pirates, scoundrels, and reprobates mostly. One of them owns the dock Watcher One's ship is in. I figured it wouldn't hurt to bump elbows with them and see what's up in the black market world."

"Don't get into too much trouble."

"Me," he feigned surprise.

I walked down the hallway to Ashara's room and was surprised when the door swished open before I announced myself. The padawan was stretching out in a colorful pair of yoga pants and a tight-fitting cream tank top. She had strange electronic sleeve's on her upper arms and thighs.

"Hi," she said when noticing me.

There was nowhere to sit, so I walked over to her bed and sat on the corner.

Pez buzzed over to me chirping excitedly. "Dweep-click-click-beep," he warbled.

"Okay . . . sure," I replied to his nonsense, "just stay back." I put up a warding hand as he drifted close to my head.

Ashara stopped her stretching and stepped closer to me. "How are you doing this morning?"

"Fine," I replied. "You should keep your door locked," I added, changing the subject.

She glanced at the door and then back to me. "It is; I just had Pez unlock it for you."

Why? I wondered to myself. We fought yesterday - if you could call it that, and I would have locked me out if I was in her position. "What are you doing?" My eyes drifted to the strange electronic sleeves that she wore and I noticed her thigh muscles contracting rhythmically.

Ashara followed my gaze. "These are E-stim bands," she replied, reaching out to press the small control pad on her thigh, turning the sleeve off. "They exercise your muscles." She turned all the sleeves off and slipped them from her arms and legs. "Do you want to try them?"

"No," I said with a shake of my head. Ashara walked to her dresser and put the exercise bands down. As she did, I could not help noticing how the tight outfit revealed her curvy body. Thanks to the stupid ghosts in my head, I was more aware of the female form than I usually would be. I averted my eyes as she turned back to me. Feeling awkward and still confused from yesterday, I began to wonder why I had come to her room.

"How is your hand?" she asked while walking toward me.

"I don't know, why don't we find out." I decided at that moment to see if the cybernetic glove would work. My wrist com was useless on my left forearm where I normally wore it because I could not use my right hand, so I had clipped it over the cybernetic glove. At least that way I could clumsily work it with the fingers on my left hand, and it masked some of the ugly glove at the same time. Selecting the controls for the glove, I turned the pain blocker down a few settings. Immediately, a spike of pain shot up my arm, making me wince.

"What are you doing?" Ashara asked nervously as she sat next to me.

"Can you do your healing thing," I waved over my right arm as a spasm in the numb hand shot more pain through me.

"I really don't think I'm good at it," she mumbled.

"Just try," I moaned softly, trying to fight through the pain to see if I could get the glove to work. Ashara started to meditate, but despite her laying a gentle hand on the glove and working to soothe my arm with the Force, the pain did not change. After a few moments of focusing on my hand and trying to activate the glove, I grew frustrated because it was not working. I presumed that the pain blocker was still too high, so I tapped my com screen to lower the setting some more. A cry escaped my lips as more pain ran up my arm and made my whole body shudder.

"Why did you do that?" Ashara complained.

"Just keep meditating," I said through gritted teeth.

"Turn it back up," she urged, "it looks too painful."

I looked down at my hand, which was now curled up into a fist. The pain was so intense that I thought it would make me black out, but a rush of adrenaline surged through my system in response, giving me a chance to focus one more time. Angrily, I looked at the cybernetic glove. I want my hand back! my mind raged internally, work, dammit!

More pain made me flinch and Ashara put her other hand out to steady my shoulder. "Please, Tishmy, don't torture yourself," she urged again.

The pain fueled my anger further, as did the grotesque twist of my gloved fingers. I focused on one, the pointer finger, desperately willing it to move. There was a soft click, and indicator lights on the glove lit up. Slowly, with flinches and spasms, the pointer finger began to straighten. The more I willed it to move, the more the pain surged through me, and finally, I had to stop. Frustrated and shaking, I reached out and turned the analgesic back to maximum, deadening the arm. When the pain subsided I sucked in air, not realizing I was holding my breath. Lightheaded, I slumped back onto the bed and closed my eyes.

"The glove worked," Ashara said encouragingly.

"You expect me to be excited about a little finger wiggle?" I grumbled.

"It's more than you could do before."

I did not want her pity or encouragement. What I wanted, to be whole again, did not seem possible. Getting to my feet, I turned away from her. "I need something to eat," I mumbled while heading for the door. Still shaken by the pain and frustrated by the state of my arm, I walked to the kitchen with Ashara and Pez following me. She showed me how to use the automatic chef, and I cooked up something simple to eat. We spent some time together without talking, and I noticed Ashara eying me anxiously. I concentrated on eating, not sure what to say to her, and then my com chimed. It was Watcher One. I answered the call and his upper body appeared in the holo projected above my wrist.

"I hope this is a good time?" he asked. His image looked around, noticing Ashara sitting near me.

"It's as good as any," I replied.

"I managed to get the doctor I mentioned earlier; he's waiting to join the call."

"By all means," I agreed.

After a moment, another image appeared in the holo showing a silver-haired man. "Lord Kallig, this is Doctor Hursa."

"Nice to meet you, Lord," the doctor nodded to me. "I have taken a look at your medical record, and I see that it's quite thorough."

"I've got plenty of things monitoring me," I replied, raising my cybernetic glove into view.

"Yes, it was thorough enough for me to confirm the diagnosis and even formulate a few treatments. I will preface the medical alternatives with the fact that your condition is acute and needs to be treated immediately. The chances of successful remediation . . ."

"Doctor," I said to cut him off, "I've already been told numerous times that I'm going to lose my arm. Tell me the alternatives to that, no matter how small the chance."

"Very well," he said curtly as he looked away from the camera. "I'm part of a team that is on the cutting edge of organic transplant research and the body's rejection process. Your case is interesting and could be very useful to our research."

"I'm willing to be your lab rat if it saves my arm."

"We wouldn't be performing any invasive tests on you," he replied with a shake of his head, "but the data will be invaluable. There are several current treatment practices that Imperial medicine uses to alleviate your condition. The first has been around for centuries, and that is to lower your immune system so that it does not attack the reattached area. It is mildly effective but has the downside of making the patient vulnerable to other conditions like infection. The second, newer technology, is to train your T and B-cells to accept the transplant. This treatment is more successful but also more involved and has additional side effects. It is also a more time-consuming process. Lastly, there is an experimental treatment that my team has been working on for the past few years. It is currently in late-stage trials and may apply to your situation."

"You really do want to use me as a test subject," I interjected.

"I only mention it as an option," he countered, "the choice will be up to you."

"What is the experimental procedure?" I asked warily.

"It is a process of injecting micro-robots into the patient. The micrometer machines are designed to flow through the bloodstream and locate the unwanted immune response. Once located, the machines can analyze the body's attack and either remove the foreign parts the body does not like or alter them to appear normal to the body. Removal is easier, as it is completed by a chelation technique where the microbot and the foreign material are simply removed from the body as waste. Altering the transplant has been more problematic."

"These machines flowing inside me aren't going to turn me into a cyborg, are they?"

"No, they are programmed with very limited instructions. They will only perform the anti-immune process and nothing else. The microbots are also created with a half-life, so they only stay in the body for a limited time."

"Half-life? Does that mean they are radioactive?"

"No," the doctor shook his head. "They have a power source which degrades, giving them a mechanical half-life. It has nothing to do with radiation."

"What is the downside to the treatment?"

"It has not been fully tested, so it's hard to tell what the probability of successful treatment will be or the length of time the process will take. There might be other complications or side effects that we are unaware of which would cause us to stop the treatment . . ."

"But it's not going to make me grow a second head or lose my other arm?"

"No," he replied.

"Okay then, what option would you choose if you were in my place?"

Doctor Hursa gave me a thoughtful look through the holocom. "I'm biased, of course, but I believe our experimental treatment provides the most upside to you. We will need to start you on immunosuppressants immediately to stop the damage being done to your reattachment, and I will need some additional blood and tissue samples to help program the microbots."

"I will accept your treatment. When can it start?"

"Immediately," the doctor replied. "I can have several prescriptions sent to your com. You should be able to pick them up at a tier-three pharmacy. The drugs are rather uncommon, so hopefully you can find a pharmacy close to your location that carries them. As for the treatment plan, I would like to send a research assistant to you to take the samples and administer the first round of microbots. If you provide your location, I can have her there in a day or two."

"Watcher One?" I asked, turning my gaze to the other image in the holo.

"Doctor Hursa made it clear to me that he requires direct observation to ensure that the treatment goes to plan. I trust his team to keep your information private."

"Your treatment will be covered by the most strict doctor-client privilege. I can assure you," the doctor added.

I looked over at Ashara who nodded in agreement. "Very well, I will allow your com to see my location. The drugs you mentioned, do they have any addictive properties?"

"No, they are used for immunosuppression only. Do you require a prescription for pain?"

"I've been avoiding painkillers due to past issues. The glove," I held up my arm again, "has a pain-blocking effect, though it renders the cybernetics useless."

"Once we suppress your immune system, the damage to the nerves should heal and the pain will lessen."

"How long will that take?"

"Days to weeks, depending on how bad the damage is. I can have my assistant scan the arm to give you a better estimate."

"Very well, Doctor, I'm on board with your treatment. Let's heal my arm."

"I must caution you," he replied. "Healing is not certain. The arm may still need to be removed if the autoimmune response cannot be suppressed enough, and even if suppressed, the hand may never function like normal. There is a long and involved process to help your body recover, and it is hard to tell what the final outcome will be."

"How long before we know if I keep the arm?"

"We should know within a few weeks, but the process of recovering function will take months, only then will we know how successful we have been."

"It is what it is," I replied. "Better to try and fail."

"Better even more to try and succeed. Hopefully, my invention will give you back your arm. You will receive a message from me soon with the prescription and arrival time for my assistant."

"Thank you," I replied.

"Thank you, Doctor," Watcher One added. "If you don't mind staying on, Lord Kallig, I have something else to discuss." Watcher One paused while the doctor dropped off the com. "I have been looking into your request about the holocrons. Have you thought about allowing Lord Vashcar to assist you?"

I glanced over at Ashara again, this time noticing a hint of surprise in her gaze. "I haven't, to be honest. Things have gone so badly for my health and fighting Thanaton's thugs that I was considering going into hiding. I know that doesn't sound very grateful of me toward the people trying to help."

"I understand completely," Watcher One replied. "I don't think anyone would begrudge you trying to go somewhere safe to recover. It makes more sense, however, to make that move after you have answers to your life-threatening issues, and my understanding is that there is a Force-related threat right now."

"There is," I agreed. Ashara's gaze stayed on me, with confusion added to the surprise.

"If Lord Vashcar could be of assistance in that," Watcher One pressed, "then it makes sense to see what help he might provide."

"Okay, but I just wanted you to know that I may not be able to pay him or his group back for any help they provide. I wouldn't like any strings they may want to attach to that help either."

"I can relay that sentiment to Lord Vashcar and allow him to decide his course of action."

"I'm reluctant, but you can contact him."

"Your com location has been attached to this communication. I will contact Lord Vashcar to see if he is interested in helping, and if so, relay him the location."

"It seems as though you've saved my life in return," I said after a pause.

"I don't consider the score settled yet, Lord Kallig. Let's see a successful completion to your treatment first."

"Thank you, Watcher."

"If you need anything further, don't hesitate to call."

The com ended, and I looked over at Ashara.

"What did he mean, Force-related threat?" she asked.

"I'm having trouble with the Force," I replied. "It's related to something about the ghosts and how they influence the Force around me. . ." My words trailed off because I struggled to understand the issue, let alone articulate it to someone else.

"What is it about the ghosts?"

"It's hard to explain," I hedged. "Their presence is distracting and draining, and they aren't helping me like they were supposed to. But there is something deeper than that, something about my Force sensitivity that is off." I went back to finishing my breakfast, and we sat quietly for a bit.

"Can you communicate with them?" she asked after a while.

"When I first trapped them, I could, but now it seems harder. Mostly, they speak to me in my semi-conscious state before I fall asleep, or during dreams." Ashara sat in thought while I finished my breakfast. I wanted to head back to the ship and take some time to think, so I got up and took the dishes to the cleanser. I moved to pick up my com pad off the counter and turned toward the stairs leading to the roof.

"What are you doing now?" she asked.

"I need to contact Khem Val and see how he's faring with the cult, and then I was going to study the artifacts for a while."

Ashara stood up and stepped toward her room. "I need to finish my workout, but I would like to go for a walk later. Would that be all right?"

"Your penchant for walks," I replied.

"Yes, I haven't been able to keep my routine lately."

"I suppose it's not a problem," I answered with a shrug. Yesterday, I tried to get rid of her, so if she decided to leave me today it would be no different. Would it? My mind wondered as I turned and headed up the steps.

That afternoon, the message came through with the doctor's prescription. It also gave an appointment date with Doctor Ponni Ragenstaub two days from now at twelve hundred hours. She would be coming to the penthouse for a house call, apparently. I was aggravated by the thought of being poked, prodded, and inspected, even if it was supposed to help me recover. I also worried about who this Ponni woman was and if I could trust her. It did not help that another message came through about an hour later, this time from Lord Vashcar:

"I heard that you are seeking assistance with the artifact that your apprentice acquired. The object is curious and

undoubtedly very old, with few references in the archives that I have access to. I would indeed like the chance to

help you discover more about the artifact and would be available in several days to meet you to help study it.

If that is amenable to you, message me back and I will make arrangements to travel to you."

His comment that I was 'seeking assistance' annoyed me, even though it might be true. He was acting like I needed his help, and being rather obvious about it. His message gave no hint about whether or not he had gained access to the data within the holocron, which also aggravated me. I wanted fewer people in my life at the moment, not more. Now two strangers were going to show up in the next few days. That fact, and the notion that Watcher One and Doctor Hursa had my location, made me feel much less safe on Nar Shaddaa. Pacing back and forth in the conference room where I had been meditating by the holocrons, I fought past my initial reaction to try and think more clearly.

Having more people know where I was did make me more vulnerable, but that information was already out there. I needed the doctor's help, and if Lord Vashcar could help with the artifact, as annoying as that would be, it could unlock the key to controlling the ghosts. Even if I were to run and hide, those two things were critical to my survival. Frustrated with the facts, I left the conference room to get something to drink. Like it or not, I had reached out to Watcher One for help, and it seemed foolish to push that help away now. Reluctantly, I messaged Lord Vashcar back to tell him I wanted his help. Anxious about the decision and not wanting to study or meditate anymore, I decided to distract myself by finding out what Ashara was doing.

She was in the kitchen making a fresh fruit drink when I walked in. Pez was buzzing around her head chittering nonsensically. "Hi," she said with a quick smile when she saw me. She had changed into the lacy bronze-colored top and cream-colored leggings that she had bought the other day. The outfit looked pretty on her, and I looked down at my black t-shirt and skirt, suddenly thinking I looked drab. "I was just making a smoothie. Would you like some?"

"I don't want to steal your drink," I answered with a wave of my left hand, not really interested in a sweet fruit drink.

"There's plenty," she replied, taking the container of pinkish liquid off the blender and setting it on the counter near me.

"Sure," I agreed, not wanting to make an issue of it. I sat down at the bar as Ashara turned and went to get some glasses.

"Bleep-blip," Pez toned as he drifted near me.

"Hello," I replied. "Are you keeping Ashara company?"

"Zwip-beep," he nodded briskly as his red eye shifted to look at the padawan.

"You're not driving her crazy, are you?"

"Dweep-click-zweep," he complained with a shake of his orb.

"He's been fine," Ashara added as she set the glasses down and poured out the thick drink. She pushed a glass closer to me and then lifted hers to take a long drink, getting some smoothie on her upper lip before licking it off. "It tastes wonderful," she sighed. "I ordered some produce from a nearby market, and they delivered it a little bit ago. Andronikos said it was okay," she added when my eyes narrowed at her.

"Where is the pirate?" I asked. She was watching me, so I felt obliged to pick up the glass and take a sip. The drink was cold and sweet with a very fruity taste, though I was not sure about the grittiness of the pulp.

"He left to meet his friends. Do you like it?" she asked about the drink as she lifted her glass and took another long gulp.

"It's okay," I replied. Her expression seemed to go flat at my words, and I sensed that she was disappointed. "I like fruit, but I haven't had a smoothie. Is that what you called it?"

"Yeah," she replied coolly before drinking the rest of her smoothie and turning to put the glass in the sink. I felt bad that she seemed bothered and decided to drink the whole glass, taking as much of a drink as I could before swallowing, and then drinking some more. She looked at me suspiciously as I gulped the final bit and set the empty glass down.

"Thanks," I replied when she picked up my empty glass. "My prescriptions are in, and there is a drugstore that has them in the promenade we went to the other day."

"That's nice," she stated, still acting a little aloof.

"You mentioned you wanted to go for a walk, so instead of having them delivered, I thought I would go with you."

"Oh," she perked up, "that would be nice."

"You like to walk in the evenings. Do you want to wait a while before we go?" I thought back to the moment we met on Taris.

Ashara walked toward me with a happier look in her eyes. "I was in the habit of walking several times a day. Though evenings were my favorite time." Her face brightened with a thought. "We should go right away because you need to start your prescriptions."

"A few hours can't be that significant."

"Why don't we leave now, and then after the drugstore, we can find some dinner." She seemed excited by the idea.

"You want to make a whole production out of it?"

"What production?" Ashara huffed. "We have to eat dinner at some point, and you need your medicine." She gave me a frustrated look.

It seemed like I bothered her again. "You're right," I agreed, "let's do it."

I had to go back to the ship to get my satchel, and while I was in my room I decided to change my t-shirt for a gypsy-style top with a white and brown animal stripe pattern. My ponytail looked frizzy, so I took a moment to weave it into a braid and while doing so realized that I was changing my appearance because of Ashara. It was a weird realization because I did not usually compare my appearance to others. Irritated by the thought and the fact that I could be so easily influenced, I grabbed my satchel and left the mirror behind.

"Dweep-click," Pez chirped when I entered the living room where Ashara was waiting. He huffed his thrusters to drift around me, careful to keep the distance that I demanded of him.

"Oh," Ashara said excitedly when I walked up to her, "what did you do to your hair?"

"It's just a braid," I mumbled.

"You've got a tail like me," she added while stepping beside me to look closer at the braid.

I noticed her head tails twitching at her sides and realized that my braid kinda looked a little like them. "I guess," I replied, flicking my head while reaching out with my left hand to catch the braid and pull it over my shoulder, "my ponytail was frizzy, so I tied my hair up. It does kinda look like a head tail, doesn't it."

"Can I touch it?" she asked meekly. I held the end of the braid out toward her, and she ran her burgundy fingers over it gently. "It's amazing," she sighed. "Didn't it hurt to twist it up so tight?"

"No, the hair doesn't feel anything."

"I'm jealous," she stated as her fingers wrapped around the braid and she bent closer, "you can do so many things with your hair."

"I suppose, but it can also be a pain to deal with." I gently stepped away until my braid slipped from her fingers. The close attention felt a little odd. "Shall we go?"

We walked the same way as the other day, crossing the bridge and entering the promenade. The mall was not as busy as before, and we took our time wandering around before finally consulting the promenade map to find my drugstore. When we arrived, after going up several levels to a more professional area of the mall, I presented my prescriptions and was asked how I wanted the medicine dispensed. I disliked oral medications, and we had a hypo injector on the ship, so I asked for hypo vials. They were nice enough to provide the first dose before I left so that my treatment was started. The pharmacist had to go over all the details of the prescription, including the fact that I may feel fatigue, nausea, or lack of appetite as side effects. I hated the disclaimer that medical personnel felt they had to disclose considering I had very little choice in whether to take the medicine.

Thankfully, Ashara was energized to look around and see the sights, so I let her lead and hoped that her positive energy would distract me from my worries. It was too early to eat, so we wandered through the shops and kiosks looking at clothes and trinkets. The padawan appeared to be an enthusiastic shopper, picking up things to show me and pointing items out as we browsed. We ended up in another jewelry and trinket shop, and she started trying rings on. Ashara was already wearing several of the rings she bought the other day and tried on a few more to see if they went together, stacking a few on the same finger. I did not like jewelry that much, maybe because of my past as a slave, and the idea of putting multiple rings on one finger seemed ridiculous. Then it got worse. She started looking at ankle bracelets and toe rings.

"I really like this one," she said, holding up a silver and black toe ring. "I haven't worn a toe ring in a while," she added while slipping off one of her brown flats and sliding the ring on her middle toe. "What do you think?" she asked.

"It looks nice," I answered, considering the response noncommittal.

"I think I'm going to get it," she beamed me a smile. "You should get one too. Which one do you like?"

I really did not want or need a toe ring, but she seemed so excited by the idea that I went along. A tiny toe ring for my teeny pinky toe seemed the least imposing option for my style, and I selected one that looked like Ashara's. After sating her shopping urge, we sought out a restaurant and ended up at a spicy-smelling Mirialan place with a wide assortment of dishes. I ordered a simple poultry soup with a side of flatbread. Ashara took time to look over the whole menu and even talked to the droid waiter before ordering a sampler platter so that she could try the most varied dishes. The soup was okay, but I need not have worried about my choice because Ashara's plate was far more than she could finish and she eagerly had me taste everything, talking about what she liked and did not about each. Some of the sample foods were tasty and I took extra bites, which elicited more comments and questions from her. I had to admit that her enthusiasm was a bit contagious, and I found that my mood had lightened. Ashara even ordered a dessert, a frozen fruit ice cream, and I ordered a Mirialan hot tea hoping that it would ward off potential nausea from the medicine.

"This was nice," Ashara sighed between bites of her dessert. "I could get used to living here." Her eyes glanced around the decorated Mirialan restaurant and outward to the now busier mall with a gleam of excitement.

My eyes followed the same path, feeling overwhelmed by the flamboyant decor and the pressing crowds. We left the restaurant and made our way back to the penthouse, and when I got to the point where I would normally head to my room for privacy, I found myself hesitating. Pez was buzzing about chirping, and Ashara walked to the kitchen to put her leftover meal in the fridge. It seemed like Andronikos was still out, and I looked beyond our windows at the Nar Shaddaa nightscape with the lights gleaming on the buildings around us and the traffic flying by in the channel between. The day had been busy and full of conflicting events. I had received hope in the form of a treatment plan and offered help but at the same time challenged by needing to trust strangers and feeling exposed to possible danger. One thing I had to acknowledge was that the ghosts seemed calmed and my dark discontent contained.

Glancing back at Ashara, who was trying to talk to the stupid droid, I realized that she was the reason for the calm. Somehow, as I had sensed before, she was able to affect the ghosts and even my turbulent soul. It irritated me that she could have that effect when I could not, but I needed it. Casually, she made her way over to where I was standing, and I searched for a way to keep us together a little longer.

"Are you okay?" she asked, sensing my thoughtful mood.

"I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind trying your healing on my arm again. I trust the Force more than doctors."
"Oh, sure," she replied apprehensively. "You're not going to turn the glove off, are you?"

"No," I looked down at the ugly thing, "not tonight."

"I don't feel that proficient at the healing meditation," she added. "It hasn't seemed to have any effect so far."

"We don't know that, now do we?"

"I guess not," her eyes looked into mine. "Do you want to do it here?" she asked, looking over at the couch.

"I'd like to put my things away and get comfortable. Can you come to the ship in a little bit?"

"Okay," she nodded.

I went to my room, slipped into a comfortable nightshirt, and started my bedtime routine. Ashara and Pez showed up after a few minutes. She was still in her clothes and seemed to give me an odd look when she noticed I was getting ready for bed.

"Sorry," I replied. "I'm tired and was thinking of turning in after the Force therapy."

"It's okay," she said while stepping over to sit on the bed. I spent a moment cleansing my face as Pez hovered over me and Ashara looked on. "I've noticed that you don't paint your nails," she said absently.

I looked at her reflection in the mirror and saw that she was gazing at her toes. "I've never gotten in the habit of it," I replied. Her white nails looked natural to me, and I never thought that they might be painted. I glanced at my fingernails while tossing the cleansing wipe into the bin. They were short and transparent, showing pink skin beneath the plate of the nail in contrast to my darker fingers.

"Mine are starting to wear off. We should paint them together."

"I wouldn't even know where to start," I muttered, making my way over to the bed to lie down.

"I can help," she answered happily, "it's fun."

Pulling the covers over me, I squished my head into the pillow; suddenly irritated that I was not alone. "Maybe I like my nails the way they are," I snipped.

"Okay," Ashara replied, seemingly unsure about what else to say. "I just thought . . ."

"Don't think," I cut her off, "heal my arm." She was being nice to me, and I just lashed out at her. Why? I wondered as I closed my eyes and slid my gloved hand over toward her. Because you don't need her, a dark thought echoed from inside of me. She'll only hurt you like everyone else. I heard Ashara huff next to me and then nothing happened. An awkward amount of time passed, to the point where I was about to open my eyes and look at her.

"That was rude," she mumbled. I felt her shift on the bed and then she picked up my gloved hand. "What did I do to deserve that?"

I did not want to delve into my sudden mood change, especially not the problem of pride in not wanting to depend on someone - or the discomfort of feeling vulnerable and weak. Peeking my eyes open, I saw her staring at me stubbornly. "You were supposed to go back to the Jedi," I stated.

Ashara looked away from my eyes, focusing instead on the ugly glove covering my hand. "I wouldn't be able to heal your hand with the Force if I did," she countered.

"You're not," I criticized, shifting my numb arm in her hand for effect.

She glared at me, and I closed my eyes again to ignore her. "I don't understand the attitude. It looked like you were more relaxed this afternoon, even maybe enjoying yourself. Now you're just being mean." Ashara shifted closer and started to focus in the Force. I could feel her presence bloom around me and the Force gather around my gloved hand. For a moment I felt as if she was trying to heal my arm, but then the sensation faded. "You're not even going to comment . . . give me some idea what you're upset about?"

I peeked an eye open to look up at her. "Why didn't you leave when you had the chance?"

Ashara gazed down at me, her eyes frustrated. "I'm beginning to think I should have."

"You still can," I added.

She looked away again. "Do you want me to meditate on your arm or not?"

"Yes."

"Then stop making me feel uncomfortable," she complained.

I closed my eye and tried to relax as Ashara went back to meditating. Strangely, I could sense her frustration in her Force aura, and it made me wonder how much she could sense about me. She pressed her Force presence outward around me, and I pushed back with mine reflexively. It felt like we were about to duel; testing each other's wills. After staying in balance with our two Force auras for a moment, Ashara shifted her focus to my arm, and I could feel the Force surround it. Despite it being numb, I felt a strange sense of warmth and pressure, as if currents of Force were passing through my arm and hand.

She touched my arm above the glove, and I flinched at the contact. "Sorry," she whispered, "I should have asked." My eyes stayed closed and I did not respond, so she went back to meditating.

In the Force, I could sense her fingers trail down my arm from where I could feel the touch onto the glove covering my numb forearm, all the way down to my fingers. It was an odd sensation, like a sixth sense. It was soothing, even if it was not actually performing any healing, and I found myself starting to drift toward sleep.

"I can't tell if I'm doing anything," she complained after a while longer. Her meditation faltered and the calming Force aura withdrew.

"You are," I said sleepily.

"I just feel like I'm doing my normal meditation," she added, "my friend was so much better at this."

"I felt something in my arm."

"You did?"

"I think it might be helping the healing."

"The glove is interfering," she sighed. "I can sense its electromagnetic disruption around your hand, and it's hard to focus past it."

"Oh," I mumbled sleepily.

"I should let you sleep," she said after a long pause.

I felt the bad shift as she got up, and suddenly worry crept into my mind. The whole afternoon and evening we had been together the ghosts had been quiet, and they might surge upward into my dreams after I fell asleep. I was tired of the worry and confusion, tired of feeling hopeless, and very tired of the ghosts taunting me in my dreams.

"Stay," I called out when I heard her moving toward the door. Needing her was better than letting hopelessness and ghosts eat at my soul.

"You were almost asleep," she observed.

"I know," I opened my eyes to look at her. "I'd feel better if you stayed with me."

"Okay . . ." She stepped back toward me, "but I need to get ready for bed. Can I go to my room and come back?"

"Sure," I answered.

"I'll just get some things and be right back," Ashara said as she headed for the door.

"Go with her, Pez," I ordered.

"Zwip-beep," he toned in the affirmative and puffed after her.

Time passed after she left, and I grew anxious, wondering if asking her to stay had seemed weird. My thoughts began battling between the fact that I needed someone and was vulnerable, and just wanting a good night's sleep. Ashara and Pez came back, and she set her things down on the side table next to the bed.

"Are you still awake?" she asked.

I looked over at her and saw her beginning to disrobe. "Yes," I replied, closing my eyes again as she began to wiggle out of her leggings. She took some time fiddling before I felt her weight on the bed next to me.

"Okay," she sighed, "do you want to stretch your arm out, and I'll do some more meditating."

"You don't have to," I replied.

"I thought that's why you wanted me to stay?"

"No," I answered. After a pause, I opened my eyes and saw her looking at me.

"I'm confused," she admitted.

"The ghosts," I sighed, "you help with the ghosts."

"Oh, okay."

"It's not weird, me asking you to stay, is it?

"Sleeping together?" she responded. "That's not weird, I mean I've slept with roommates ever since being a youngling, though usually not in the same bed. This situation," she added after a pause, "is weird - since you asked - and you're acting weird."

"Thanks," I mumbled, rolling away from her to tap my com pad and turn the lights down. I pulled the comforter up to my chin and wondered if we were both under the same layer of sheets, strangely worried about accidentally touching her. Why I wondered that was itself a wonder, and I decided that I did not like having people in bed with me. Pez was on his charging stand, everything seemed quiet, and I closed my eyes hoping to drift off to sleep.

"It seems strange that I affect the ghosts," Ashara whispered next to me, "doesn't it?"

"I guess," I replied, wondering the same thing myself.

"What happens to the ghosts when I'm around?"

"They leave me alone," I sighed.

"But why?"

"I don't know," I grumbled in frustration.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I'm just curious." It seemed like the questions were over, but after a long pause, Ashara asked some more. "Have you learned anything interesting about my ancestor?"

"I've learned way too much about your ancestor, all of it bad and useless."

"Oh," she sighed, "I'm sorry about that."

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault that he's spilling lewd and angry thoughts into my mind all the time."

"You're right," she agreed, "but it feels like I bare some responsibility. Sometimes I think that my presence brought him back to reality."

"I don't think that's how ghosts work. I found my other two ghosts in their tombs without anyone else's help, and I'm pretty sure your ancestor died in the ruins where we found him."

"Still, if I wouldn't have stumbled upon him, then you wouldn't have been aware of him because the Jedi wouldn't have written a report. So in a roundabout way, I caused you to come to Taris."

"Okay, fine," I sighed, "you're to blame." There was silence again, but I felt the conversation was not over.

"Do you think I could talk to my ancestor?"

That question made me roll over to look at Ashara. "Did you not hear what I just said? He's a monster. What in blazing suns do you want to say to him?"

She gave me a sheepish look. "It wasn't anything specific. I was just wondering if you can communicate with them . . . you know, have a conversation."

"As I told you this morning, I don't talk to them anymore, and I wouldn't want to. Do you know that darkness I have inside?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Well they are all darkness like that, and they want me to be consumed by it as well."

"What is the darkness?" she asked in a worried tone.

"I don't know. It's been a part of me for as long as I can remember. I used to think . . ." Memories of my past made me pause. "I shouldn't have said anything about it," I snapped; feeling vulnerable.

"It's okay," Ashara whispered, "maybe I can help."

"I don't want your help, and I don't want you repeating what I've said to anyone else!"

Ashara seemed shocked by my sudden anger. "I won't say anything," she replied.

It bothered me that I was so sensitive and annoyed me that we were talking about the ghosts and the darker side of my soul. I rolled away from her again and tried to fight the emotions roiling inside of me.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said gently after a moment. I did not answer her, hoping that she would just let it go and fall asleep. "The ghosts are bad then," she seemed to think to herself, "and you need to find a way to get rid of them."

"Yes," I agreed. For whatever reason, that realization made her questions stop.