The Sith Order: Aspects of the Force

"It's not much further," Jastiss said, glancing over his shoulder. "We're just about there."

Zemai nodded. She hadn't spoken since... since Coris left... and she couldn't seem to force herself to say anything. That it had happened was shameful enough. That she had initiated it was worse. That it had been seen was unbearable.

"You know, I can still tell what you're feeling. Whatever you did before you came here, it's still there."

Great. Just when she'd thought it couldn't get any worse.

"You're not in love with him, you know."

Zemai found her voice, and it was the dry, bitter one that spoke in her mind when she was at her low points. "Oh really? And how do you come by this astounding information?"

Jastiss shrugged with practiced nonchalance. She considered telling him that she knew he was nervous, but opted against it. What was this business between them, anyway? Why didn't the bond just evaporate? It hadn't been meant to be permanent. "I get the feeling," he said, "that there are some things I know more about than you."

"I'm sure there are," she said. "Everyone has his or her own strengths. But it's rather presumptuous for you to assume you know more about my own feelings than I do." All right. From dry and bitter to pedantic and condescending. A real improvement there, Zemai. If you try hard enough, you might be able to find some other way to insult this poor boy.

"You know what you're feeling," he said. "But you don't know what it is. How many people do you know? I mean, really know?"

"I don't understand the question."

"Look, I'm not the most social person you're ever going to meet, but I know a few different people, and they all do different things. Do you have anyone other than Coris?"

It was in Zemai's mind to chastise him for being rude, but his words hit home. "No," she said quietly. "Everyone knows it, back at the Temple. They think I don't care about anyone but Coris. I guess maybe they're right."

"Somehow, I don't believe that. But that's not what I mean." He stopped walking. "Tell me if I'm wrong, Zemai Laryhi. You've been with Coris a long time, right?"

"Right."

"And you don't have any other friends?"

"No. Not that I can think of."

"If you can't think of them, you don't have friends."

She nodded. "I suppose."

"So how are you ever going to imagine not being his apprentice? You don't know anybody else, and you don't know how else you might fit with someone."

"That doesn't explain why you think I'm not in love with him."

"Maybe I misspoke." He smiled at her shyly. "Or maybe it's just wishful thinking."

She raised her eyes for the first time, and looked into his. They were simply questioning her, not pressuring. Though they still held a certain amount of disappointment. "Go on," she said. "So far, you're doing as well as I am."

"What I think is that you put every feeling you've got into this one place. And whenever some new feeling comes along, you put it there again, like a habit."

Incredibly, she felt herself smile. "So, I miraculously developed this new feeling... I'm assuming you have a guess as to why?"

He grinned, unable to remain completely serious. "Well, obviously, you were hopelessly attracted to Olan."

She laughed. "Naturally."

"And this new feeling -- which was really for Olan, of course -- just spilled right over, and you headed for the place you always head. And it didn't help that Coris picked right then, when this new thing was happening, to get romantic over his lost love."

"A pretty story. But the fact remains that people have always questioned my bond with Coris. And I kissed Coris, not... Olan." She laughed at the idea of kissing the old man. The pretense was entering the land of the absurd.

He shrugged. "So, you have bad aim."

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"I'm kinda hoping your aim will improve. If I'm right, of course."

"A big 'if,'" Zemai said, but for the first time, her burden felt somewhat lighter. "Come on," she said. "Let's get into town before we bake out here."

He smiled at her, and led the way.

 

Jastiss, followed closely by Zemai, walked down one of the narrow streets of Anchorhead. Various denizens of the small town buzzed around, bartering their products with other venders.

Jastiss looked at Zemai. She seemed to be alot quieter --mentally, that was-- than before. After the... incident, her mind seemed to have screamed for help, and apparently without her knowing. He smiled. Well, she feels better. That's what I was trying to do, right?

Jastiss stepped up to a smalls stand, and picked up two large, red spherical fruits. He turned to the vendor, and flicked him a small credit chit. Turning to Zemai, he handed her one. "Vorti fruit," he explained, walking forward again, "it's the only edible plant that grows on this planet." He bit into it, and laughed slightly as red juice trickled down his chin. "No one knows," he said, wiping the juice away, "why they get so juicy, or how they manage to grow here, but they do."

Zemai looked thoughtfully at the fruit, and nodded. "They're probably the result of millions of years of genetic perfection," she explained, "They probably store water the moment it's available, then use it as it's needed."

Jastiss nodded thoughtfully as he took another bite. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He avoided Zemai's cinical look. Of course he knew nothing about the fruit. There was a reason why the farms on Tatooine only harvested water.

He looked at Zemai again, and was relieved to see her cinical look at disappeared. "Hey," he said, pointing at the fruit, "you haven't tried it yet."

Zemai shrugged. "I'll save it for later."

Jastiss rolled his eyes. "Zemai, what's your favorite food?"

Zemai was silent for a moment. Jastiss guessed she was tired of all his questions. When she spoke, there was a fair amount of playful suspicion in her voice. "Why?"

"Well," Jastiss explained, "is that favorite food the only thing you eat when you're at home?"

Zemai was starting to laugh now. "Jastiss, I--"

"Okay, bad example," Jastiss stopped, "I think you know where I'm going with this." He grabbed he fruit from her and turned it over in his hands.

Zemai crossed her arms. "And where is this going?"

Jastiss smirked, and looked at her. He tossed the fruit at her, and stepped away. "You need to try knew things, Miss Laryhi," he explained as he increased the distance between them, "you need to broaden your horizons!" Jastiss turned, and shot her a smile before running into a nearby door.

Inside was fairly well lit for a Cantina.

There was a a band playing a quick, uplifting tune in the far corner. Several people were up and dancing to the music. A bar sat in the very middle, and was attended by a cleancut wookiee.

Just then, Zemai bolted in through the door and nearly ran into him.

Jastiss turned with a broad smile on his face. "Tell me, Zemai," Jastiss said mischeviously, "do you dance?"

 

"As a matter of fact," Zemai said primly, "I do dance." She took a bite of the Volta fruit. "But not while I'm eating." The juice dribbled down her chin, spoiling the prim image, and she wiped it away.

"What?"

"I'm eating!" she said louder, over the music. "And your leg is hurt!"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."

"Sit. Eat Volta fruit."

"Prove you can dance."

The music ended. "Too late," she said.

"Oh, they'll start again."

"Fine. What kind of dancing? I know dancing from seven worlds. Do you have a preference?"

He shook his head. "I mean dancing for fun, not for some diplomatic tea party."

"Does it occur to you that some people have fun at diplomatic tea parties?"

"No."

She smiled, and shoved the remainder of her fruit into his mouth. "Come on," she said. "Get off that leg. We should get you to a medic to get some bacta on it anyway."

"My leg is fine."

"I've made you angry again, haven't I?"

"I'm not angry. I just want you to loosen up and get your mind off of this."

She'd spotted a small table to one side of the dance floor, and she sat down. He sat across from her. She picked up his foot and put it on her lap to elevate the leg. "I am who I am, Jastiss. Pretending not to be will not be helpful to anyone."

He looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. You're right. I was... not myself before. You've helped me, Jastiss. More than you know."

"Yeah, well. Good. I'm glad you feel better."

"I didn't wish it to be at your expense."

He didn't say anything.

She looked at the band, which was gearing up to start again. She braced herself. She genuinely didn't care for loud music -- she preferred the dreaded diplomatic tea party, where the whole point was to have a conversation -- but this was obviously a place Jastiss liked, and she was glad to be with him in it. It had been a long time since she'd made a new friend, and if it took some adjustment, so be it.

"We don't have to stay."

She smiled. "I have some credits on me. What's good to eat here? I'm hungry."

"So am I." He looked surprised. "I'm starving. Quite a morning, wasn't it?"

She smiled. "No kidding."

 

Up.

Anyone around?

 

One word: Finals.

I haven't been able to do any writing for practically anything for the last week. I'll be catching up on everything once school ends on Friday, though. Then I will return!

 

Yay! I got the hundredth post!

BTW, Its Rogue's birthday soon! hahahaha

And I'm really busy too but I will try and post some time later...

 

double post

[This message has been edited by Loka Hask (edited 06-11-2000).]

 

?By Hini?s moons, I hear the sounds of battle. Hurry and get us up there !? Speaks the gruff of voice of the Sith warrior, Ty?nir-Han Ogin, disciple of the Sith master Mu?alan Isis.

The other alien Sith warrior, who resembles a hawk but with the body of a humanoid, turns to him with an curious look. He too, is an disciple of Master Isis, but unlike his fellow classmates, he is calm in the face of the coming battle that is before them.

? Patience, my brother.? The bird warrior known as Ursala-Jin Fang says in a low voice as he make the necessary adjustments on the detonator. The three Sith Warriors are underground as they make their way to the city of Gulasar. This is the capital city on the second moon in the Golean system. The battle with the Calmonians have been raging for over a week and a half. The carnage and devastation is mind boggling as the Republic?s forces engage in defending the two populated moons, Solliaa and Braamenti. The call to the Jedi Knights have shifted the balance of power to favor the Republic. Gulasar has been under siege since the day before yesterday as the Calmonians stormed the city, determined to take the capital.

The Jedi has arrived with one purpose...to take back the city. But they have been met by both the Calmonian infantry and the Sith warriors of Master Mu?alan Isis. The battle has been going on for a while as the rest of the Sith disciples underground begin to make their move. Ursala-Jin Fang continues to make adjustments in the detonator as Ty?nir-Han Ogin and another humanoid disciple who yellow face almost glows from the black robes that he wears, stand their ground. The sounds of laser blast from large battle cannons and the sounds of screaming warriors fighting is heard loud but slightly muffled due to them being a couple of feet underground of the city. Meanwhile, on the surface, the battle rages on between the Calmonians and the Republic?s as they fire the pulse lasers from out of self made trenches, trying to hold what little ground that they possess. The small Jedi force that came to tip the scales is fighting with three members of the Sith within the ruins of the city. From the original thirty man squad that was sent from the Jedi temple, only eight remained.

As soon as the Jedi arrived on Braamenti, they was ambushed by the Sith. A blooded battle insured as the Sith , knowing that their number was way less than that of their foes, used stealth and subterfuge to take them by surprise. The Sith had no problem slaughtering whoever was not prepared to do battle. The Knights never seemed to recover from that initial attack but still, they was determined to help out the Republic?s forces as best as they could. This is where the Jedi find themselves now, as they fight to avenge their fallen comrades and liberated the capital from Calmonian control. The three Sith warriors who are also disciples of Mu?alan Isis, fight with a ferocity that the Jedi cannot match. The clashing of Lightsabers is heard loud as they block and parry each other in a blur of speed and precision. One short Sith warrior moves with fluid grace as he turns and spins to block and counter attack his foe. Another medium height Sith, who tall slender frame, counters two Jedi Knights as they try to push him back against abandoned building.

The last Sith disciple, does a somasault over the emerald green blade of a Knight, to gives himself space to continue his attack. He pauses to look at the slender framed alien Sith, as he continues his battle,

? Rei?us !? the Sith warrior named Xis?da Massasi screams to his brethren, ? Have you accomplished your task ?!?

? I have, brother Xis?da !? The slender Sith replies immediately, ? What is keeping Ty?nir?s party ?! they should be here, by now ! We cannot hold off these infidels forever !?

? We can and we will, fellow disciple,? Xis?da yells, ?These fools are no match for us..? the sudden appearance of his Jedi opponent catches the Sith off guard as they continue their battle. The familiar humming of the L

 

Up. I know, I hate these too. But I'm frying my brain to think about what to do for the next post. I have an idea cooking. I'll try and get it posted tonight.

 

Jastiss' leg started bleeding again after half an hour, and Zemai finally managed to convince him to see the surgeon droids.

The med-center in Anchorhead was laughable; Zemai had seen older padawans with better set-ups in their quarters. But the droids were competent enough, and they got Jastiss up onto a surgical table, and unwrapped her makeshift bandage. "I'll clean this," Jastiss said, abruptly embarrassed. "You know, before I give it back."

She smiled. "That's all right. You can have it."

He returned the smile. "Just what I always wanted."

The surgeon droids started working on his leg then, and Zemai went outside to give him some privacy.

It was late afternoon, and the first sun was already touching the sand far away. There was no hint of color yet in the sky; it was just a clear, brilliant blue, and the shadow that was cast long behind her was cut as clean and clear as if it had been carved from paper with a scalpel. A comfortable breeze was blowing down from the distant mountains, stirring gentle eddies of sand up around Zemai's ankles.

She was tired and the thin veneer of normalcy she'd stretched over herself was beginning to crack. The fights came into her mind, the struggles agaisnt the Sith, the conflict with Coris. The... the awful thing she'd done. And the memory of that second, that brief instant of what might have been, but never would be.

Jastiss was right; it wasn't love, not that sort of love, anyway. But they were so closely bonded to one another, and they'd had only each other for so long... the desire had been there, if only for a second. It was a second that had destroyed everything else between them, that had cut their future of cleanly and tainted their past forever.

Who am I now?

She thought back to the time before Coris -- or if not before him, before she was bonded to him. Who had she been, then? Who was that girl?

(olashya m'traet... the carrier of the dead)

She shook her head, trying to stem the visions of death and fire that were rising up in her mind. She could feel the weight of a dead man, dragging at her arms. Then a voice she had not heard before, a voice both cold and seductive.

(master olashya, come forward to your destiny...)

She sat down against the stone wall, her forehead pressed against her knees. She didn't like that voice. She didn't like the name it called her.

(carrier of the dead)

She was not. She was not Olashya M'Traet. She was Zemai Laryhi, and even if she could no longer be the padawan of Coris Hakim, she was nearly a Jedi, she was a strong student, she had something of herself left to offer, and not to the greedy dead.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and said, aloud, "I am alive."

But she wasn't sure what that meant.

 

Interesting stuff!

 

Interesting stuff!

 

<<<I'm posting twice in one night! Amazing! Well, I actually typed up the second one kind of on a whim. It should make up for my absence. I'm going on vacation, starting tomorrow, for two weeks to Japan. You guys keep this story moving while I'm gone, 'k?>>>

"Master?"

The Jedi Temple was silent and still, broken only by Zemai's voice as it floated to him on the cool night air. He sat up in bed, stretching out with his senses to feel the girl's presence.

Something was wrong.

Coris didn't need to look at the chronometer to know it was early morning, too soon for even his Padawan to be up and about. He rolled out of bed and fumbled for his robe. "Zemai?" he said loudly, cinching the sash around his waist. "What's wrong?"

"Master!"

Perhaps it was a nightmare, he thought. She had them frequently. "All right. Hold on, I'm coming over." He could hear her voice, muffled by the wall separating their rooms. Coris padded over the stone floor and pressed his palm to the control-panel at the side of the door. He waited a moment, but the door didn't open for him.

He pushed the control again and held his hand against it, suppressing the increasing sense of urgency that was starting to make his head hurt, like someone was trying to hammer his way out from the inside.

"Coris, hurry!"

A faint pounding emanated from the opposite side of the wall. She was hitting it with her fists, and that sparked a worry that hadn't been there before.

Zemai was desperate.

He pivoted back and went for the dresser beside the bed. He usually kept his lightsaber there in the times he actually used his room in the Temple. But all his searching fingers found was air. Somehow, deep in his gut, he'd expected that. He glanced back at the doorway and stopped.

The door itself was gone. In its place stood a blank wall. Just like the three others.

Coris turned in a circle. Four walls. No door and no windows. His quarters had morphed into a prison. He could still hear Zemai screaming his name and the sound of her hands, but now the pounding seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

"Coris! Coris, help me!?

Her voice seemed to fill the room, ricocheting around inside his head, driving him mad. The world spun around him. He fought it. He had to get to her, had to reach her...

Then the last threads holding the dream together unraveled completely. The room distintigrated around him, falling into black oblivion, carrying him down with it. Off somewhere very far away, Coris could hear the sound of a woman's voice, laughing.

"Too late."

* * *

"Hakim! Wake up!"

A hand was shaking his shoulder. Opening his eyes, Coris blinked up at the fuzzy shape he presumed to be Olan's face. Unlike Zemai, who could be fully alert in a few seconds, it took him significantly longer to locate all his sleep-scattered thoughts.

Alderaan, a helpful synapse prompted. You and Olan hired a freighter to take you to Alderaan.

Gradually he became aware of the murmur of the ship's hyperdrive and of the hard mattress beneath him. The bed provided as much comfort to the spine as a block of permacrete, but when he'd fallen into it hours before, he hadn't been of the mind to care. He'd retreated to the passenger's cabin soon after they had made the jump to hyperspace. He'd felt incredibly exhausted then.

Coris forced Olan into focus. "We can't have reached Alderaan already," he said.

"You were mumbling in your sleep," the older Jedi explained. "Bad dream?"

The other frowned, half-chagrined. "You and the pilot heard me all the way in the cockpit?" Because buying a ship was more than they could have afforded, they'd negotiated passage with a free trader already on his way to the Core.

"Just me, along with every Force sensitive being in the Mid Rim. You gave a mental yell so loud it must have traveled for light-years. Thought it was best to wake you up before you went any further."

"Thanks... I think." Coris adjusted his position so he was sitting upright, propped up against the headboard. "I was hoping not to disturb anyone. Ever since I was a kid, half the Templ

 

<<<Well, so far, everybody?s contributed something to the Sith/Jedi battles outside our own characters, and now it?s my turn to provide a perspective on how the rest of the war is going. This is sort of violent. I don?t usually like writing these sorts of scenes, but if I do, they will always feature ?unknown? Jedi with no names, like this one.>>>

She stood atop a mountain of corpses.

Irlan V had once been a peaceful world. The war had turned it into a barren wasteland awash in red. All her years as a Jedi hadn't been enough to prepare her for this. Everywhere she moved, she would slip on a body - whether or not it belonged to a friend or foe was beyond her now - but she no longer cared. She didn't care about very much now.

She slid down the hill that was her vantage point and wandered across the battlefield, ignoring the cries of the dying, stepping calmly over the crumpled remains of what had once been her friends. Most had been taken in the initial clash with the enemy. A lot of them had been little more than Padawans. Children dressed as soldiers.

And yet she'd stood by and watched them each snapped, one by one, like blades of grass in an unforgiving wind.

The Force tingled and a moment later she heard the shout from behind, the wordless challenge. She spun, lifting her saber into a guard. Behind her, the Sith raised his own weapon. Unlike some of the others she?d faced before, this one was Human - she could tell that much - but the hood of his robe was pulled up over his head, obscuring her view.

It's better that way, she thought. It's easier to kill them if you don't see their faces.

The Sith darted forward. His saber went to skewer her through the middle. She pivoted to the side, letting the orange beam pass harmlessly past her rib-cage, bringing her own saber crashing down on his. He snarled and retreated, advancing again a second later. She beat him back again.

The duel was joined.

She was already weary from past fights and although the Sith gave no indication of fatigue, she knew he was tired too. The battle had been raging all day. Their attacks were not as crisp as they had been once. Though the Force was still as readily accessible as ever, she felt removed and distant. She faltered once or twice. So did the Sith. It felt as if they were both floundering in deep water and fighting with heavy wooden logs instead of lightsabers.

She saw her opening when he lunged at her and was a heartbeat too long in recovering. Her saber?s hilt smashed into his forehead. He stumbled back and she kicked him, using the Force as a lever. He practically flew into the air, landing on his back several meters away. She ran grimly after.

He stirred where he?d fallen and tried to get up, but could only push himself to his knees. His hood fell back then, and she got a good look at him.

Sandy blond hair fell over a smooth forehead unwrinkled by age. She saw crystal blue eyes peering up at her from a perfect face marred only by a fresh gash along one cheek. In the place of a warrior was a boy.

He couldn?t have been more than thirteen.

Despite his injuries, he picked up her surprise and sneered, goading her. The perfect visage melted away as the Dark Side ate up his mask of innocence. In those piercing blue eyes, she could see nothing lurking there but darkness.

The image froze the blood in her veins, robbing her of breath. For one second, she was paralyzed, and that was all he needed.

Getting his feet under him, he launched himself at her. She heard a scream, almost animal in nature, but she wasn?t sure whether it had come from his throat or hers. There wasn?t time to think, only to act. He had already crossed half the distance between them when her saber swept up, catching him in mid-air.

He hit the ground in two pieces.

She spun away before she could see him and fell to her knees. She gritted her teeth, but the screams were already welling up in her throat and she couldn't swallow them anymore. The tears flowed. The sobs made her chest hurt, but there was nothing she could do except close her eyes,

 

Is anyone archiving this story as we write it?

 

Up with ye.

 

Is anybody else having trouble reading the Sith Order Planning Thread Volume 2 Thread? Every time I try to go in there I see all these messages about the study of the Force or something, by people I don't recognize at all. I've tried going in a number of times and the results are always the same.

Weird new format. I'm not sure whether I like it that much or not.

 

Ah, you haven't met the JC philosophers? It's good stuff.

Anyway, just skip ahead to the end; we're still there yammering away.

 

" Watch out, Fifth Witch ! Theres two Calmonian snub fighters on your tail !"

The frantic voice of Winsar Belas is heard loud over his comlink as he steers his starfighter through the Calmonian swarm. The sound from the laser pulse erupts loud while the lights fill the heavens with a magnificence of colors. The speeding crafts dart back and forth in a wild ariel dogfight being displayed over the orbiting moon of Braamenti. The large battlecruisers from both the Republic's naval force and those of the Calmonians are firing their laser cannons as they streak slowly side by side. The small fighters are speeding through the both the cannons and other small fighters either in pursuit or on the escape.
The Coven Of Witches have been dispatched to help take back the moon. They were met with a resistance they had not calculated on to be this large. To the fearless pilots of the Republic, this is nothing that they haven't experienced before nor are they not prepared to deal with.

The sleek grey colored fighters streak across the heavens in a helter skelter battle knowing that there will be no margin for error.

" I got six marks moving on a high screen ! Coming in at one hundred ten degrees!" One pilot bellows into the comlink

"Copy that tenth witch." The response came back, " dart sixteen degrees to the right, we'll have both the thirteenth and eighth witches over to you in a hot minute !"

"Where are these fighters coming from ?!" another voice is heard on comlink, " Every five that we destroy another seven comes up to replace it !"

"Never mind that, ninth witch!" the voice yells back, "Circle to the side of docking bay six, if you having problems shaking them off you, we'll take care of it from there !"

"Affirmative !" Ninth witch responds as he steers his fighter through the explosive battle.

The Coven Of Witches are flying back and forth hitting the Calmonians with quickness and stealth. Trying not to get caught in a pattern where the Calmonian ships, due to their larger number would try to exploit them. Fighters are exploding in every direction and the sights and sounds of the battle, have not let up ever since their arrival to the system. Large and small pieces of blown ships come streaking past the canopy at high speeds. The expert piloting of the Coven allows them to avoid any accidental mishaps as the Calmonians intensify their assault onto the Republics battlecruisers.

"Seventh witch !" Winsar Belas says into his comlink as he jams his thrusters to make his fighter go a sharp left. He shoots past some of the Calmonian fighters fighting other Coven fighters under the bottom of Gladiator's Arm and rode into a new swarm of combatants

" I need you to follow me into the right wing of the medical frigate !" Winsar says
" I copy that, First Witch." the response came almost immediately.

A squad of four of the Coven's fighters plummeted towards the massive medical frigate, laser firing wildly at their foes. The Calmonians fighters uses evasive action to avoid being blown to pieces. The large cannons from the medical frigate continue to fire until they hit two of the enemy fighters, blasting them to ashes. The remaining ships broke off the attack but they are still being pursued by Winsar and the other fighters. One by one, the Calmonian fighters are destroyed by the Witches' attack. The skies were clear for only a split second when five more Calmonian ships come around one of the cruisers flying at high speeds towards Winsar and his group.

" First Witch ?!....." A pilot yells into his comlink

" Yeah, I see them !" Winsar replies quickly as he makes some adjustment on his control panel, " Second squad, set co-ordinates to fifty-six, four. Whatever you do, don't let them set you up in a crossfire...ready...GO !"

The Calmonians swarm starts the attack, firing their lasers at their targets. Winsar and his small attack squad swiftly evaded the deadly fire and sped off in different directions. Some of the Coven fighters are seen speeding away and firing on other unsuspecting Calmonian s

 

Up

 

Zemai looked over her shoulder apprehensively, wondering if there had been some complication in looking after Jastiss' leg. It hadn't *looked* like a harsh wound, other than the bleeding, but what if the projectile that had been fired had some sort of poison or infectant on it? What if he ended up losing the leg?

_Stop it. Just stop it. There's enough to worry about without you creating new things._

It was true, and in the end, she knew it. Every padawan was trained in battlefield first aid, and she knew a mild nick when she saw it. Jastiss was fine. Maybe they'd just given him something for the pain, and it had put him to sleep. There'd been so much walking today that he might just be tired enough. Zemai knew that *she* was.

She sent her mind into the small room where the surgeon droids had worked on him, and, sure enough, he was asleep. His dreams were jumpy and agitated and...

_(it is windy and hot, and there is a small bird in the sky, a bird of prey of some sort, with bloody wings, but he is waiting for it, arm upraised, and it comes to him gratefully then everything changes and the bird is gone and he is alone and searching for something stolen from him and)_

Zemai snapped herself out. She had never -- *never* -- gone into another person's dream before. Even if she'd known it was possible, which she hadn't even had a hint of, it seemed so... intrusive, such an absolute, fundamental violation. She felt dirty, and searched for a basin to wash her hands in.

The common basin sat against the wall, in a spot of shade. There was a button on the side that slid the cover away and pushed the recycled water up from the bottom of the container, through its filter. When the top closed, it would go back down and be cleansed. Not much water would be wasted on this world.

She plunged her arms into it, elbow deep, and it was blessedly cool. As she scrubbed at her hands -- suddenly, she couldn't seem to scrub hard enough -- she stared at her shadowy reflection, one sun balanced on either side of her head, like glowing earbobs. Her heart filled up with some strange, fantastic emotion that she couldn't identify, except for a fierce desire to remain here, to be a part of this place and to let it be a part of her. _I am the sand, I am the wind, I am the water, I am the suns, and they are me._

Then it abated, at least a little bit. Strange. No place had ever called her in that way.

_It's filthy and empty, just like you._

Zemai froze. That had not been her own inner voice; she was sure of it. But it was no voice that she knew. And it wasn't that *different* from her inner voice.

Then the world swam into a dream of fire and pain and blood.

When she came out of it, she remembered almost nothing.

But she'd scrubbed her hands until they left bloody prints on the low stone wall, and dripped into the sand.

The voice in her head laughed. She was certainly part of this world *now.*
--------
(Rogue, if you want to write what the vision is, go ahead. If not, it's cool if Zem just doesn't remember it.)

 

Her pillow was a mound of sand, her coverlet the clear Tatooine skies. Akira lay in the shade of a dune, flat on her back, eyes closed. Her mouth twitched in an expression she rarely wore anymore: a smile. Her chest rose and fell peacefully. She was dreaming.

~~~

The girl had long since stopped screaming. Now she stared with the wide eyes of an animal that knew it was trapped, full of dread and terror. She wasn't even restrained - her fear was enough to root her in place, spine stiff, arms adhered to her sides. And over and over the thoughts in her mind cycled in one relentless strain, like a chant:

*This can't be happening this can't be happening this can't be...*

The hulking figure of a Zal nodded from the shadows. "We are ready to begin the transfer."

The young woman waved a hand. "Good, get on with it then."

"I must show you how. The procedure can be complicated the first time around."

An impatient pause. "All right," she said brusquely. "Once. Show me and I will be able to do it for myself after this."

"You are fool, Akira." Nevertheless, the mentor stepped closer. "This will take less than five minutes. It requires much energy and will be draining. It will also be painful, especially if you are conducting the transfer yourself."

"Just how painful?" The question was not one of apprehension, simply curiosity. She knew pain well enough. It was hardly something to fear anymore.

"Excruciating," her "teacher" said. "As if your skin is ripped from your body, piece by piece, then sewn back on with a wooden splinter for a needle."

The young woman's blue eyes hardly blinked. "Charming. Shall we begin?"

A sigh. "Very well."

The girl was trembling as they turned toward her, their expressions grim in the flickering of the firelight. She knew vaguely that they had come to some sort of a decision. She knew that she was in trouble, and there was little she could do about it. The air stank of her fear, permeating even the Force and making both her kidnappers grimace in distaste.

*This can't be happening oh why is it happening? please let me go I just want to go home let me go home...*

A young woman with the blond hair and eyes of ice came forward. She gripped the girl's arms almost gently, seeking her face, waiting until their gazes locked before speaking. "Don't worry," she murmured. "It will be brief."

"Would you like to bid farewell to your current... ah, vessel?" the Zal asked. "This will be the last you ever see of it. At least in its current form."

The answer was a definite negative, and the transfer was underway.

The next few minutes were to be filled with fire and unimaginable agony, all of what had been described to her and more. The seconds crawled by like years. Blood and tears flowed like rain, intermingling with both sorrow and joy, hope and despair. It was rebirth.

It would not be the last.

~~~

Coris was not the only Hakim who had broadcast his sleep-time visions during restless childhood nights at the Jedi Temple. But unlike her brother, Akira had eventually found a way to control her dreams. Even better, in time she could choose who else could sit in for the show.

And there was only one person on Tatooine to whom she wanted to give that privilege.

Akira slept soundly, still smiling. It was a nice dream.

 

UP! (Where is everybody?)

 

Good question! Loka? Rover? Anyone?

 

Well, anyway, in the meantime, I drew Zemai, and decided that since we have a fan art forum, I'd put some of my pictures online. It's not great art, but, heck, it's Zem (sort of).

http://members.aol.com/fernwithy/zemai.jpg