The sparks flowed, moving slowly at first, then quicker, quicker, shifting, sifting through each stream…..flowing, flowing….
Joy surged, there, that one, pulsed slightly, then brighter, turning a flaming orange, embedded in the muted green mixed with blue. An anomaly. Life, but….not. Life…..life.
The sound didn’t make sense, not at first, so focused was he upon the minute life force, it repeated itself, pressure increasing, beginning to rip at his consciousness…..
“DHARO!”
The sparks stopped, his mind ripped from the flow of particles, of life. Feedback roared through his connection to the force. Then, all turned black, silent.
Slowly, he climbed towards consciousness, pain pulsing through his body, beats of his heart pounding in his head.
When he opened his eyes, groans escaped his mouth.
“Reckless endangerment,” a voice roared, or so it felt like as he struggled to sit, his head pounding as he rested it on hands, the bed firm under him. “Perhaps pain will offer a lesson where listening does not. Self inflicted pain. Reaching beyond with the Force…..you risk more than you know, my young padawan. For you, and your patient.”
“I…..am sorry, Master,” the stripling croaked. Slowly, he opened his eyes, tears streaming out of the golden orbs as the minimal light of the quarters spiked into his brain.
“Do not be sorry, Dharo, learn,” Master Trid’hile replied. “We must push the boundaries and constantly improve. The Force is everywhere, but that doesn’t mean you can be everywhere.”
“I can feel their pain, their suffering…….it’s a blanket over this whole building.”
“Dharo, our mission here is to investigate the extent of the plague affecting the Mon Calamari, and then to arrange for the security of the medical supplies being sent by medical convoy from Coruscant and to protect them against any attacks by the Quarren or their Seperatist backers.”
“But Master…..that child is not suffering from the Iridian plague…..or I mean, she is, but that’s not the only thing, there’s something else…..
“Dharo, that child isn’t even sick yet, she’s visiting her parents.”
“Master, she is sick….she’s just not showing symptoms yet. Here, let me show you.” He staggered to his feet, bringing up a treatment screen on the terminal.
“So, in summary, my new Padawan is correct, Master Yoda, and this is not a natural outbreak of the Iridani Plague. Its virulence has been genetically modified, and the primary cause of the spread of the disease has been specifically targeted at the Mon Calamari, and combined with a minor respiratory illness common to Mon Calamari youth to enhance its transmission across the population. The children are more commonly carriers, with the worst symptoms, including death, affecting the adult population. The Republic’s medical research team here has now confirmed it. The infective disease vector generally only shows up in patients for the first twelve hours, and generally dissipates before symptoms of the plague are present.”
“A new standard of darkness, implemented the Seperatists have,” said Master Yoda.
“Agreed. With the Council’s permission, Dharo and I will attempt to investigate the original introduction of the weaponized vector on Mon Cato.”
“Proceed with urgency,’ inserted Master Windu. “If more such diaboloical weapons were to be developed…..”
He awoke, remembered pain pulsing through his body, sluggishly mumbling, “Master?”
Then the pain truly hit, the wounds of his body stuggling to heal, a trauma bandage placed on his chest, and he could feel a corresponding wound on the back.
Memory, soared, Ventriss……he reached for his lightsaber, but it wasn’t there. He took a slow breath, before recognizing the back of the Mandalorian’s ship, but hearing blaster fire. He half stood, half slid off the gaming table, feeling the weight of the borrowed blaster at his left hip.
As his eyes focused, he didn’t understand what the sights upon which his eyes gazed, as Commander Drygar and his troopers were firing into the cockpit, while his compatriots’ lightsabers flashed.
Understanding could wait……he grasped the blaster with his bloody hand, drawing, and opened fire.
Last Dreams 