Eye of the Shadow - Pt. 6 - Don't Talk To Strangers

The two fleet commanders and two colonels had been filling themselves with a wide assortment of liquors for the better part of the evening attempting to drown out some of the fear and anxiety that had crept into their day.  Even though the men were generally nasty competitors striving for the attention of the Sith overlords, they were in similar situations due to their recent shared failure.  Each officer had spent years preparing, planning and dreaming of the glory that they might achieve.  Now, all their dreams were at the mercy of Darth Malak.  If the misplaced Jedi strayed into his grasp, they would be fine.  If not….  They labored under the threat of failure; not because of what the enemy would do, but their own leadership.  The Sith masters did not respond well to failure. 

 

Having ordered their men to find the Jedi or die trying, they sat together having a hopeful drink.  And like nearly every other patron of the establishment, they did not notice the one-eyed, ragged employee as he cleared tables and wiped up the messes of the Tarisian elite and Sith occupiers.  There could hardly be a better way for Yagr to pick up the cross talk and idle chatter than to mingle with the power-brokers.  The watcher was one table away when Commander Pula passed a set of data cards to the other three.

 

“Thes will git ya passt the line if sumtin’ bad happ’ns and you gotta slip away,” sloshed the commander.

 

Each officer pocketed a card with care, knowing that their lives just might depend on that data if Lord Malak chose to make an example of them.  One of the colonels stood gingerly and labored toward the facilities to alleviate the pressure on his bladder.

 

As the inebriated officer stepped through a door, he looked around and realized he had walked outside instead of toward the facilities.  A firm hand grabbed him by the arm and led him to the narrow walkway beside the cantina.  The staggering drunk could have offered little resistance to his assailant even if he had been fully sober.  But in his current state, he was little more than a rag doll to the steely-nerved aggressor.

 

As Yagr led the colonel around the corner with the intention of killing him, something tugged at his mind. A fleeting twinge of mercy.

 

I have shredded so many Sith over the last two weeks, and NOW I get a conscience about it?  This is no time to go soft.  So, he brushed aside the thought for a moment.

 

Once he had the colonel in the shadows, he began searching the officer’s pockets.  It was quite a fortunate stroke that put such a valuable piece of information in his possession.  After pocketing the data chips, Yagr slipped a small blade out of the folds of his clothing. Only two inches in length, made of cortosis weave like a vibroblade, it was attached to a leather cowling that slid over his index finger with the blade suspended below. He could reach out and slide the blade across flesh, creating a ghastly incision in hardly the amount of time it took for the human mind to process that the movement had occurred.

 

He held the head of the barely conscious officer in one hand, prepared to rob the colonel of his life, when that little twinge wiggled back into his mind.  Ending this man’s life might be a bad idea.  Yagr could not figure out the origin of that thought, but he believed firmly in obeying his instincts.

 

After looking at his victim for a moment longer, he lowered the man to the duracrete walkway and mumbled, “I suppose I’ll leave you to Malak.  Hardly a merciful choice on my part. ”

 

As Yagr stepped off into the darkness, he tried to figure out why his conscience did not feel like killing that particular target.

 

---

 

The next day, Yagr found Canderous Ordo sitting in a lounge watching the swoop runs on the holofeed.  It occurred to him that the Mandalorian always looked comfortable, regardless of the context.  If he were watching the fights or in the midst of battle, he was always pretty calm and under control.  Yagr liked that in a man.  He walked over and plopped down beside Ordo.

 

Turning to look at Yagr, Canderous spoke in his gravelly, uninhibited tone, “You look like crap, Yagr.”

 

“Serious?  And this is after I freshened up a bit.”  He remarked half in jest.  “Couple of late nights.  How are the runs going?”

 

“Not too bad.  Some Gran named Alik Asik just merged himself and his swoop with a wall.  Pretty messy.  Not a bad way to go, though,” spoken with a disaffected shrug.

 

Yagr had not come to discuss anybody but Serena.  “What about her?”  he said cryptically.

 

Ordo had no doubt whom Yagr was referring to.  “Her first run was amazing.  Rumor is she has never even touched a swoop.  What’s that story?”  He paused for a minute, then looked more deeply at Yagr.  “What IS that whole story?  Who is she?  Where did she come from?”

 

“Canderous, too much knowledge on that topic would be dangerous. Besides, you don’t have enough capital for the information, if you catch my meaning.”

 

“Not really, no.  You‘ve asked a lot of me.  Why can’t you say anything more?  You’re not building a lot of trust here.  I know you are an honorable warrior, but I know nothing of your business integrity.”

 

Yagr’s face scrunched up in a thoughtful pose for a moment. “Ok, I will make you a solemn promise.  If you stick close to her, treat her with respect, and do what you can to safeguard her life, she will lead you into some glorious combat again.”

 

Ordo’s eyebrows arched in an uncharacteristic display of sudden interest.  “You have my attention, but how can you possibly know that?”

 

“I …I don’t know how. ”  Yagr paused to mull that over a bit.  How do I know that?  “It is just… in my head. That knowledge is just there.”

 

Ordo stared not quite sure what to make of the crazy talk that Yagr had been throwing at him.  He shook his head in a bit of frustration, then refocused his attention on the swoop runs being broadcast over the holofeed.  Yagr got up to leave, but paused with one more question. “Everything all set?”

 

“Yeah, yeah…” Canderous retorted, waving his hand as if brushing aside an annoying gnat. 

 

---

When Yagr left Canderous, he returned to his apartment to don a disguise that would let him get inside the perimeter of Vulkar lookouts. Determined to get a look at the captive Jedi and position himself near the action, just in case the Vulkar’s altered the prize arrangements, he put on the grimy outfit that he kept for Vulkar operations. As he was working on his optic implant to make sure that the “natural” eye device was seated correctly, he felt a slight tug at his mind, something he had not felt in a very long time.  He pushed it aside to focus on the task at hand.  

Sneaking through the halls of the living complex to a service entrance, Yagr descended two levels to a sub-basement.  As he walked the dank lifeless corridors, he felt another pull at his mind.

 

Ok, now that is enough.  Someone is poking at my mind and I don’t like it.  Jedi? Can’t be the one they captured.  Draay?  Not really his style to tip his hand.  Maybe someone from the Tower came back without my notice…not likely, but strange things are the order of the day.

He shook his head vigorously, then spent a few moments in meditation, raising a mental shield against Force-users probing his mind.  He continued his journey through the sub-basement until he reached the rusty old access panel that was his most commonly used exit.  A buzz from his pocket startled him.  Removing a small viewer from his trousers, he accessed the holofeed from the droidcam that was positioned in his apartment.

Somebody’s snooping around.  He watched as the image of Calo Nord appeared, slinking through his living quarters, apparently searching for him or some information about his whereabouts.  Yagr chuckled to himself, and then slid the viewer back into his pocket.  That was an issue he would deal with later. For the moment, he was focused on the imprisoned Jedi.   

The access panel slid aside to reveal a tunnel; an abandoned ventilation shaft that was the perfect conduit for his entrance and exit to the Lower City.  He slipped noiselessly into the tunnel and maneuvered the panel back into place.

 

---

 

As Yagr approached the race control center, he felt that his actions were being controlled by something other than his own mind.  His feet reacted to a consciousness that was not completely his.  He was utterly in touch with every muscle and nerve in his body.  He could come up with no reason to explain why he was reacting to another set of mental instructions.  Seconds before he rounded a corner, he paused, not totally sure why.  As he waited a moment, he heard the voices of two Vulkar guards approaching.  He ducked into a shadow between two support beams and listened in on their conversation.

 

“…no one in.”

 

“Why is he so paranoid?”

 

“Not sure. Ever since he moved that slave girl out into the open, he’s been real flaky.  No one in, no one out.”

 

Yagr realized, with a heightened state of security, he might not get in with something as simple as a grungy old outfit.  He switched out his implant with a more sensitive scanning device that would cycle through several visual and sonic frequencies.  In a sprint and hide pattern, he managed to work his way down to the race control facility just outside of Brejik’s Vulkar base.

 

Turn down the power to the neural restraint.

 

Yagr looked frantically around for who had spoken.

 

On the left most control panel, you will find a grid of power controls.  One is labeled neural restraint.  Lower the power level to just below 30%.

 

Yagr was dizzy, confused at receiving directions from an invisible source.  The voice was soft and beautiful.  He wanted to hear more, but did not know if she was talking to him, specifically.  Then it occurred to him: the Jedi. She is not totally suppressed.  She must be nearby and alert to my presence.  But…

 

Questions later.  Please hurry.  Lieutenant Kae will complete her run soon.

 

He felt like he was losing control of the situation as he worked his way down to a catwalk beneath the main thoroughfare.  Meditating on the maneuver he would use to get up and over the railing without notice, he felt himself begin to “see” the situation above him: locations of persons, control panels, obstacles… all of it.  After a short assessment, it was time to move.

 

It felt strange—as if he was not actually ordering his body to act.  He leaped up and out, reaching back and catching a handrail at the top of the squat restraining wall, grappling over it and landing on the walkway with hardly a sound.  His momentum took him into a gentle roll, and when he regained his feet, he was crouched with his back to the front wall of the control booth.  No one had noticed or even suspected that something was not right. 

 

After a brief pause, he heard the controller step out of the booth and Yagr slid into the small space immediately finding what the voice had described.  He slid the power control down to the requested 30% level and immediately slid back out the door to his former hide.  Seconds later, he caught the sound of the controller’s boots scraping the threshold as he reentered the booth.  Moving a bit further around the front of the booth, Yagr finally caught sight of the Jedi.  She was locked in a cage with a neural restraint band on her head.

 

There you are.  I was wondering what was taking you so long.

Her voice was warm and soft, like a satin cord running through his mind, and her chestnut hair shown in exquisite contrast against her pale complexion.  She had been stripped down to a sliver of her wardrobe and Yagr could not take his eyes off of her.

   

So you are the angel on my shoulder?  How did you get inside my head?  I had…

 

Fortunately, since you are not using Force powers to build your mental wall anymore, it was not as effective as you had hoped.  Now keep your focus on the matter at hand.

 

Now he was SURE that he was losing control of the situation. 

 

As he labored to figure out what was going on, who this Jedi was, and why she had said “anymore” in her critique of his mental blocking attempt…she “spoke” to him again.

 

Pay attention, Kae is finishing her run…oh…not quite good enough.  Only 30.22.

 

Ok, question time:  Who are you?  How did you know that I was working for the same thing you were? If you are conscious of what is going on, why are you still in there?  If you are a Jedi, how did you get caught to begin with?  Is this the same Serena that…

 

Wait a moment!  You don’t remember me do you, Odace?

 

Yagr felt instantly sick to his stomach.  Not many people in the universe knew his real name, and about half of those people were immediate threats to his survival.

 

How do you know me?

 

Yagr could hear the slight disappointment in her voice as she responded,  You mean after all that time we spent together on Chandrilla, accompanying our masters to the Leaders of Tomorrow Conference, you don’t have just a shadow of a memory of me?

 

Yagr squinted back the headache that was invading his mind.  His past was a tangle of memories, most of which he usually labored to eject. 

 

Suddenly it occurred to him. Ribbons?

 

Her mind bristled slightly. I have not worn hair ribbons in quite some time.  I have matured quite a bit in the last eight years.  Her tone was a bit indignant.

 

My stars, Bastila, never in a million…

 

I guess you never can tell who is going to walk back into your life.

 

Please give me some understanding as to what is going on.  I am so confused.  Bastila, I feel like I am being driven along without being in control.

 

Her chuckle drifted through his mind. He found great comfort in knowing that she could find a moment of levity in the midst of such seriousness. You always did like being in control of things.  I have gained a few skills in my training.

 

You’re doing all this!?! he thought with amazement.

 

It is uncommon to find battle meditation in one as young as myself, but the Force decided it was to be my gift…and curse.  Ok, look sharp.  Serena has just completed her run…good, she beat Anglu.  Things are about to get exciting.  Get ready. 

Tell me this…how did you end up on Taris?

 

We were coming to bring you home, Odace Yagarian.