Chapter 13

The small girl lay gasping on the cot, each sour breath crackling in her small lungs. Her eyes were crusted over, her face pale and hot. Z'myra, her hands shaking, tried to focus the Force, tried to pour her healing energy into the girl. A wave of dizziness washed over her. It wasn't working, she thought, trying to keep despair at bay. She took a washcloth and cleaned the girl's face, clearing her eyes from the crusty residue. The medical tent was full of such patients moaning and coughing; all suffering from the Endregaad Plague. They shouldn't be dying. The medicine should be working.

"Come on Janla, stay with me," she muttered as she reached for more spice, but the medicine tray was empty. They had run out… again. Janla gasped, her body going stiff as she opened her frightened eyes and looked up at Z'myra. "It's okay," she said softly, trying to keep the hopelessness out of her voice, "I'm here. I'm with you. You're not alone."

The child grasped Z'myra's robes, clinging to her. Z'myra gently brushed her long, dark hair back and made comforting sounds. Her heart was breaking, she felt so helpless. Then the girl's grasp loosened, her hands falling to her sides, her breath came out in a soft rattle and she breathed no more. Z'myra stared at the young child for a long moment, her mind going numb with the senselessness of it all. Finally, she gently closed Janla's eyes and stumbled to her feet.

In a daze she wandered out of the medical tent, breathing in the icy air and leaving behind the smell of antiseptic and decay. She stood for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the bright afternoon sun reflecting off the newly fallen snow. Boroza's Reach looked so calm and peaceful covered in the quiet blanket of pure white. Then the sound of wailing reached her ears. Janla's mother. It was the sound that finally shattered her.

Z'mrya ran.

Stumbling through the snow drifts, she ran. Past burning bodies, past people crying out for help that she couldn't give. She pressed on through the snow, vision blurring—not just from tears but from exhaustion so deep her body barely remembered how to move.

When she reached the edge of town she came to an abrupt halt beneath a flickering street lamp that was trying to pierce the gloom of this forsaken town. Bending over and gasping for breath, she collapsed to her knees and finally let the tears fall. She sobbed, her own cries mingling with distant sounds of mourning.

Sometime later she heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. She looked up from her datapad, from the list of names, the people she hadn't been able to save. She couldn't bring herself to add Janla's name.

Master Khen-jo stopped a few paces away, a look of sympathy on his face. "Z'myra. I've been looking for you." He tried to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder but she shoved it away.

Clambering to her feet she shoved the datapad in his face. "You want to know how many I've lost? Look at them, Master. Every name—every one—I couldn't save any of them." The despair in her voice was tangible. She'd spent months here, trying to save people from a plague that shouldn't have been lethal—if only they'd had enough medicine and supplies. They had sent request after request for aid, but nothing came. She was covered in blood, her clothes stank, her eyes burned. She just couldn't do it anymore.

"What good are we if we stand back while children die?"

"That's not what we're doing. Under the circumstances, we must remain neutral in order to maintain balance. We are giving what aid we can—"

"But it's not enough," she interrupted his rhetoric and turned away from him. "Balance?" she scoffed. "There's no balance when the weak are dying so the rich can hoard the cure."

"You don't know—"

"Oh, but I do." She spun back around. "Just yesterday I was approached by a man wanting to sell his "special spice". It was probably just smuggled drugs, but if I had had the credits, I would have purchased it anyway. We're that desperate. And the rumors coming in with the refugees. They say The Exchange has the cure but the senator won't pay for it!" She took a deep breath and looked out beyond Master Khen-jo at the town. The small squat buildings looked forlorn in the fading light of the evening. Only a few had lights on. So many of the homes were empty now. Trash was piling up, food was getting scarce, many of the lights were broken and no one was able to fix them. The mechanic had died last week. Tellen's Fold was no better. They had lost nearly 70% of the population. Nerai Crossing was worse off. Almost the entire town had been abandoned. Out of all the towns in the rural sector, only Ephira Hollow had escaped deaths from the plague.

She frowned at the thought. How was it that only one town was plague free?

"Ephira Hollow," she whispered the name. "You've been there. It's too clean. No deaths reported. No refugee traffic. Something is wrong. Very wrong. And the Jedi are doing nothing to stop it!" She threw her hands up and stormed off.

Master Khen-jo grabbed her arm. "Please, Z'myra. You have to understand. We are bound by the rules of the Council," he said softly, but his voice cracked on the last word. His eyes weren't angry. Just tired. So very tired.

Z'myra could see the compassion in his eyes, the exhaustion, the despair. "Master. We have to do something."

"I know," he let his hand fall to his side. "What more can we do?"

"We go to Ephira Hollow. We find out the truth."

"We have to be careful. If the Council—"

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP— the datapad flashed in Z'myra's hand. She looked down to see an incoming message from Mariatu. She couldn't believe it. Communications had been down for so long that she feared they had been completely cut off. She quickly scanned the message then opened the link to an old news article. She read through the article, her brows furrowing and her eyes narrowing at what she was reading. Then she switched back to Mariatu's frantic message. She stared at the name on the screen, her heart skipping a beat. Yarrom Nheqed. Alive. Her breath caught as the pieces snapped into place. Ephira Hollow. That must be where they're keeping him. With wide eyes she looked up into the patient face of her master. She held out the datapad and said, "You have to read this!"