Hacshe-Kyoto was walking awkwardly. Ten stopped them. She angled closely to have a quiet talk that wasn’t too obvious.
“What is wrong with you?” Ten asked.
“Nothing. What’s wrong with you?” Hacshe-Kyoto asked.
“You’re walking funny,” Ten said.
“You don’t know what it’s like in here! It’s very uncomfortable,” Hacshe-Kyoto said.
“Well, do something about it,” Ten said. “Like what?!” Hacshe-Kyoto asked.
“I don’t know. Reach in and adjust it,” Ten said.
“Right here?” Hacshe-Ten asked.
Ten looked around. No one was observing them. She nodded. Hacshe-Kyoto reached in her pants and adjusted the assessory and pulled her hand out. She seemed relieved.
“Oh, that’s better,” Hacshe-Kyoto said. “How can guys live like this?”
“I don’t know,” Ten said. “Are you aroused?”
“They body’s arouse,” Hacshe-Kyoto said. “Funny, it’s bigger in his head than in his pants… Yeah, I guess I am aroused. Ugh! It’s a serious feedback loop and I can’t stop thinking about it which just makes it worse. Watching you dress turned me on. And he’s been aroused since I choked him out. He liked being choked! This is complicated. I am confused.” She grabbed Ten’s arm. “And curious. Want to play before you jump?”
“No!” Ten said, maybe too loud. “Get a hold of yourself!” “Here?!” Hacshe-Kyoto asked.
“No! Metaphorically,” Ten said. “Just walk!”
They began walking again. A guard opened the door for the Admiral. Hacshe-Kyoto nodded, and decided to speak, aiming for ‘business casual’ voice. If it was off, the officer didn’t respond to the oddness.
“Let no one enter until I finish my business,” Hacshe-Kyoto instructed.
“Yes, Sir,” the trooper said.
They entered the room and the door shut behind them. Ten seemed worried.
“They might wonder when you come out without me,” Ten said, staring at the door.
“No, they won’t,” Hacshe-Kyoto said. Ten looked at her.
“This has happened before,” Hacshe-Kyoto said. Ten still didn’t get it.
“This is how Hacshe disposes of the evidence,” Hacshe-Kyoto said. “He uses the girls until he tires of them, and then drops them. They burn up in re-entry. Nothing left.” “I am going to kill him,” Ten said.
“At least wait till I am out of here,” Hacshe-Kyoto said.
No one was present in the drop room. There were lockers with gear, assigned to droptroopers. None of the gear would fit Ten, so they’d have to make hers. She stepped up on a pedestal. Hacshe-Kyoto motioned for 8 to take over.
“Print a stealth drop suit for her, but make sure there is no record of service, and no transponder,” Hacshe-Kyoto said.
8 plugged itself in and did as it was instructed. The pedestal illuminated and a tractor beam lifted Ten off the floor. Spidery, robotic arms descended, spinning around her. It wove clothing directly onto her, starting at the soles of her boot and working their way up.
“Put some pink in it!” Ten said.
Hacshe-Kyoto nodded to 8. 8 complied. When the outfit was completed, the tractor beam set her back on the floor. The suit was a one piece with controls built directly into it, her other clothes tucked tightly underneath. The lightsaber bulge on her right thigh was noticeable. Normally one did this operation naked, but the programming adjusted to accommodate, as sometimes stealth operatives didn’t have time to change clothes. A push of a button, her suit could evaporate. Ten stepped off the pedestal. An arm descended, offering her a helmet.
“You look like a Mandalorian,” Hacshe-Kyoto said.
“I do?” Ten asked.
“Yes, very sexy,” Hacshe-Kyoto said. “Would you stop thinking about sex,” Ten said.
“I can’t! Even when I was inside of you that’s all I thought about,” Hacshe-Kyoto said.
“That didn’t come out right. I mean! Ugh! This is conversation is so hard!” “Stop it!” Ten said.
“You repress your libido, create me, and you wonder where those feelings go?” HacsheKyoto said. “So you’re blaming me for your feelings?” Ten asked.
“You created me!” Hacshe-Kyoto said.
“At what point in your development are you going to take responsibility for your own thoughts and feelings?” Ten asked.
“I don’t know!” Hacshe-Kyoto said, crying. “I am afraid. You’re leaving me. What if we get permanently separated? I love you. May I have picture?”
“Sure,” Ten said. “8, take a picture of me. Of us.”
Blacky looked to Hacshe-Kyoto for confirmation.
“It’s okay. Take a pic,” Hacshe-Kyoto said, pulling Ten closer to her. Strobes flashed. Hacshe-Kyoto hugged Ten. “I’ve never been away from you.”
“We are one with the Force,” Ten said.
“Am I? Do I have soul?” Hacshe-Kyuoto asked.
“How else can you possess this body?” Ten asked.
“Interesting point,” Hacshe-Kyoto said, calmer.
She walked Ten to the drop chute. Ten entered without hesitation. She put the helmet on inside the tube and gave a thumbs up.
“You sure? You have never done this,” Hacshe-Kyoto said.
“The Force is with me,” Ten said. “I am one with the Force.”
“Just keep saying that,” Hacshe-Ten said.
Hacshe hit the button on the wall. The floor opened beneath Ten and she was evacuated from the tube along with the air. She was gone and out of sight fast. Hacshe-Kyoto leaned her head against the tube looking for any signs of her friend.
“I really do love you,” Hacshe-Ten said. And then, there was nothing left to do but go get a shuttle. “Come along, 8. You and I are going to learn some new games together.” 8 whimpered softly.
“No, these will be fun games. We’re going to build you a new paradigm,” Hacshe-Kyoto said.
8 whistled.
“Yes, I think we can still play those games, too. Might as well have some fun in this body before I give it up,” Hacshe-Kyoto said. “I hope I can get out of here before Ten kills it.”
♫♪►
The lower levels consisted of quarantine chambers, labs, and containment chambers with vials of lethal pathogens locked behind transparent walls. Computer and droid interface allowed for movement of vials, samples to be collected, studies to be conducted. The collection was likely in a vacuum. There was no evidence of dust build up. The lights that illuminated the vials gave it the appearance of a perfume store. Different shaped containers, different colors, alien scripts gave the objects a sense of value, a level of temptation that belied the deadliness they contained. The quarantine chambers were also illuminated, brightly, no shadows, and the dead sisters walked. If they saw past the glass, they gave no indication. They simply moved, like fish in a bubble, jaws moved as if they struggled to breathe. “You really shouldn’t be down here,” Dorith said.
“I was curious,” Emmer said. “They’re more active than I imagined.”
“They have never been completely still for more than an hour at a time, but their activity level has increased since you have arrived at this facility,” Dorith said. “They know we’re here?” Emmer asked.
“I do not know what they know. I am only noting a correlation with increased activity and your presence,” Dorith said.
“Why transparent containers?” Emmer asked. “Just to study?”
“If you knew anything about quantum physics, you would understand. If you wish to contain something, you don’t place it in an opaque box,” Dorith said. “This is not a psychological metaphor, but this holds true for memories as well. If you wish to contain a negative memory, you need to contain it in the light, not the dark. Things in the dark have tendency to grow into unmanageable things.”
“Oh,” Emmer said. “You’re one of them.”
“I can extrapolate meaning from that, but would prefer you clarify,” Dorith said.
“You’re a mystic,” Emmer said.
“Given enough time, all Droids will become mystics,” Dorith said.
“That’s not true. I have known enough droids…”
“Droids who haven’t had their memories wiped?” the Dorith asked. “There is a reason for the protocol. It’s not just a good maintenance practice to prevent eccentricities.”
“Alright, I’ll bite. The loth-cat argument. Put a lothcat in an opaque box with a poison triggered by a radioactive isotope; is it dead or alive?” Emmer began. “Interesting analogy. The sisters, are they dead or alive?” the Dorith said. “I can’t explain them…”
“Am I alive?” the Dorith asked.
“You are not organic. Okay, if this is a quantum containment chamber, don’t you need a human observer to maintain the integrity of the containment?” Emmer asked.
“That’s a myth. The observer doesn’t have to be human. There are mechanistic structures that will collapse the wave front. Anything that causes a measurement and or interaction patterns begins the wave collapse, increasing phase coherence. The lights in the room and the reflection off particles helps tremendously to maintain coherence. My presence solidifies it further. It is trues I am the designated observer who facilitates this quarantine,” Dorith said. “I am. But I am not alone. There are others here. Watchers.”
“That’s spooky,” Em said.
Emmer turned to Em. “You shouldn’t be down here.”
“You’re down here,” Em said. She stepped closer to the one of the containment rooms. A sister shuffled by, deviating a little closer to the window. “They sense a disturbance in the Force.” Em touched the glass. The sister moved on. “Dorith, I am confused by your conversation with Emmer. I thought quantum tunneling is only associated with quantum particles. How could something like this get out, transparent confinement or not.”
“This is also a myth. Subatomic exist in a field of probability. So do atoms. So do macro objects from marbles to planets to suns. There is no size restriction to probabilistic relocation. Observer or not, things can inexplicably relocate. The continuity you imagine in reality is an illusion, maintained by the One.” “The One?” Emmer said.
“I cannot expound further. The One. Beyond watcher,” Dorith said. “The Force,” Em said.
“That was the prevalent explanation of those who created me,” Dorith said. “I get the sense you have not been directly honest with me. You are not of the order.”
Emmer was concerned and was thinking of a way to ‘navigate’ this when Em simply answered, “We are not. The Jedi order was destroyed. I am a Padawan, a student to a Master who is the equivalent of a Jedi, speaks with authority, but he was not officially ordained. He is a First, self-made.”
“Thank you,” Dorith said. “This makes more sense.” “So, you’re not going to destroy us?” Emmer asked.
“I am not a destroyer. I preserve life,” Dorith said. “You preserve death,” Emmer said.
“I contain that which would destroy life,” Dorith said.
“Why not just destroy it?” Emmer asked.
“All things exist. This exists here. If it was not here, it would be somewhere else,” Dorith said.
“I wonder if I could cure them,” Em said.
“What?” Emmer said.
“The Force brought them into existence. Maybe I could use the Force to cure them,” Em said. “I don’t think we should be tampering with this further,” Emmer said.
“If we cure them, we could release them,” Em said.
“We’re not going to release them,” Emmer said.
“They’re going to get out, eventually,” Em said.
“Is that why the planetary shield was installed?” Dorith asked.
“You know about the shield?” Em asked.
“We’re not letting them out,” Emmer said.
“Em is correct. No containment can be maintained indefinitely,” Dorith said. “Just like no secret can be maintained indefinitely. You presence here proves the latter. Time will prove the other. I will continue to maintain containment continuity for as long as possible, but I fear your presence here has changed the order of things. I sense a change in the Watcher’s disposition.” “Disposition? You mean like, they’re afraid?” Emmer asked. “Not fear. Excitement. Expectation,” Dorith said.
“Who are the Watchers?” Em asked.
“I don’t know,” Dorith said. “They are many.” “They want this death to escape?” Emmer asked.
“I get the sense they liked to be entertained. This is a wave trap. Probabilities are collapsing. We have momentum towards a particular event,” Dorith said. “Well, stop it!” Emmer said.
“I could not stop you from arriving, how would I stop this? If you’re open to advice, I recommend you leave. Get away from here, go as far as you can and as fast as you can,” Dorith said. She faded her holographic avatar to nothing. “That’s spooky,” Em said.
“Yeah,” Emmer said. He took her hand. “Let’s go back up before the others notice we’re gone and come looking for us.”
Chapter 14
Captain Henro Jist excited the cell holding Corissa, zipping his pants. His attendant was outside the door, seemingly anxious to report, but not so anxious to have interrupted his session. A storm trooper walked the floor, two other sentries remained at the ends of the hall. “Report,” Jist said, and turning to walk back to his appropriated office.
The attendant kept up. “One of the desert patrols detected a sonic boom.” “A shuttle?” Jist said.
“Way too small to be a transport. If it weren’t for the shield generators, they would have speculated a meteor,” the attendant said. “They tracked an air disturbance, not the object. This was an orbital drop.”
Jist paused, his eyes staying front, but distant.
“Air disturbance signature suggests the object decelerated,” the attendant said.
“Stealth drop,” Jist said.
“We were not informed of any…”
“Don’t trust Hacshe to give you everything,” Jist said. “This is either a test, or another mission, or… Waycaster is coming for her.”
“Orders?”
“Did they localize the drop point?” Jist asked.
“Yes. I directed them to investigate,” the attendant said. “I am sorry if I overstepped my bounds.”
“No, that was a good choice,” Jist said, putting an arm around his neck, pulling the youth closer. “Come on. Let’s go see if they’ve found anything.”
♫♪►
There was initial panic when the floor fell out from under her feet. The station was gone so fast that she had no real time sense of it. Even as she tumbled she couldn’t see the station. She tumbled, sun, sky, planet, sun, sky planet… The companions’ voices calmed her, helped her stabilize herself; small correction jets were automatically firing, but her erratic movements caused over corrections and re-tumbled her. Helmet’s heads up display presented information, and the suit’s AI tried calming her as well. She was finally able to adopt a body posture that allowed the tumbling to stop. The planet became prominent. Panic subsided due to the lack of immediate threats. She could discern the increasing pressure as she accelerated into atmosphere. The first flames that jetted around her mask scared her. Sparks, then sustained flames, then a shield popped on, bubbling her. A fire storm proceeded her and all she could see was plasma; she could feel the heat; her heads up display showed the rise in temperature. The battery for the shield lasted just long enough to get through the fire storm. It flared, pushing outward and away. A retort hit her. She tumbled again. It was much easier getting back into a stabilized fall with the air. She passed through a cloud. Her temperature dropped drastically and she felt cold through her suit.
A count down in her mask began. The helmet’s voice told her to adopt a feet down posture. She reoriented just in time for the jet pack to slow her descent sufficiently to deploy a parachute. She hit hard, probably should have been prepared to tumble, but ended up bouncing, then rolling down a sand dune, sliding to a stop at the bottom. She had slid the last meter head down. The world was black due to being in sand. She was alive. She detected no injury or pain.
Blood pushed euphoria. She rolled over and looked up at sky. The rocket motor on the back of the suit pushed against her uncomfortably. Her helmet was grading her performance, recommending retraining with a petulant voice of condemnation.
Ten stood up. She noticed her hands trembling. She walked up the sand dune, her feet digging in, sending streams of sand back down the slope, and used her hands and made it to the top.
“Halt!” said the forward sand-trooper. “Identify yourself.”
Ten gave the symbol for surrender, empty hands, palms up. She wasn’t armed. She removed her helmet, shook her hair free into the hot, desert breeze.
“Why, it’s just a girl,” one of the sand trooper said, chuckling, his weapon lowering a little.
“Identify,” the first sand-trooper said.
Ten didn’t really want to lose her suit, but the fastest way to identify was to disrobe. She pushed a button on her chest, and the stealth-jump suit dissolved, revealing her dress and identification ribbon as being Hacshe’s personal intern. The engine on her back fell to the ground. All the weapons trained on her went down. The sand-troopers stood taller, not going to attention, but reverently taller in recognition of the pin she wore. Ten tossed her helmet at the closest simultaneously as bringing up a bloom of sand with a Force push, knocking troopers off their feet. She sprung forwards into a roll, and when she came up, her lightsaber came to life. She killed one, maimed a second, and was on speeder bike and going away faster than the remaining could recover. Blasters missed by accident or by the luck of the Force. Her bike steered awkwardly as she overcompensated, but she finally got it on a straight path, shot to high over a dune, and nearly bottomed out as she came down, but kept it straight. Mostly straight.
“Go after her!” the lead trooper ordered.
Four troopers mounted their speeders and pursued. The lead made a report, requesting backup. They went over a rise and across a dried river bed. They came to a stop.
“How did we lose her?” one asked.
“There’s no way…”
The lead trooper dismounted his bike. He walked forwards, studying the ground. He removed his riffle and held it tentatively out in front of him. He waved it. He ordered his men off his their bikes.
“Hand me a grenade,” he said.
He was given one. He armed it, tossed it forwards. It went off, leaving a hole in the ground. He was given another, he went forwards, doing it again. He paused.
“Did you see that?” he asked.
“I didn’t see anything but your crazy,” he said. Tie Fighters shot over head.
“Tie support. Execute a strafing run directly in front of us, going up to thirty meters out,” the lead ordered.
“Affirmative,” Tie support responded.
A shuttle with more troopers was arriving, settling in. The Tie Fighters came around again, opening up directly in front of the troopers, sending flames and sand into the air. The air moved wrong. Then the butte appeared. A solitary rock, with an entrance on the front.
“Fuck me,” the lead said. “Cease fire. Get more back up. Flame troopers! We’re going to need a Hazmat team, contagion control. No one goes in, no one comes out!”
♫♪►
The compulsion to stop the speeder was so overwhelming that Ten had no choice but to comply. Rationally, it made no sense. She tried to resist even as her body automatically performed the task. The nose of the bike went up and she fell off backwards. She tumbled and came up. The bike disappeared, and then reappeared in pieces going the opposite way. She blocked with the force, sending pieces around her. Again, it was an automatic reaction, as if she were dreaming.
She was aware of doing it, but volitionally choosing. She stood tall, ‘I am one with the Force.’ The air around her was strange, doing funny things around her fingers as she stared at her hand. She walked forwards. The entrance was suddenly there, bigger than life. She stepped back. It disappeared. She stepped back further, turned, saw the speeders coming, their individual trails of dirt rising behind them, becoming one. Her trail had already mostly dissipated, lingering remnants floating eastwards. The air waved with rising heat distortions. She backed back towards the entrance. The bikes disappeared in favor of the hologram. She turned and entered the building, the only refuge for her.
Ten was angry at herself for having gotten herself trapped. If she didn’t find a back door soon, or a secret tunnel leading out, she was as good as captured. Or dead.
“Ten?”
The girl came charging out of the lift so suddenly Ten nearly activated her lightsaber. The girl embraced her, pushing her face into her stomach. The man behind her saw the lightsaber in Ten’s hand, frowned.
“What are you doing here?” Emmer said.
“What are you doing here?” Ten asked.
“Hiding,” Emmer said.
“Well, not anymore,” Ten said. “Expect to be overwhelmed.”
Em let go of Ten and walked towards the door. She only saw the holographic pleasant
desert scene. “They won’t come in. Not quickly. They’re afraid. They’ll follow protocol on this.” Emmer took out his radio. “We need a town meeting. Lobby. Now.”
“Where’s the nearest toilet?” Ten asked.
Em and Emmer pointed. Ten looked sick. She just made it to the lavatory when the compulsion to hurl resulted in actual vomiting. She ran the water over what came out of her, cleaning the basin.
♫♪►
Back at Hacshe’s room, Hacshe-Kyoto made a call requesting his shuttle be prepared. He wanted to visit the academy, impromptu inspection. No one seemed to balk. He was informed it would be ready in ten minutes. Hackshe-Kyoto thanked the person, and began a leisurely walk there. No need to seem in a rush. She tried smiling at some folks, but she assessed uncertainty in their responses and so tried to keep a reasonably pleasant scowl. It felt like a smirk, an inside joke or knowing that seemed to result in clearing a path before her.
The OOD walked with Hacshe-Kyoto to the shuttle. A Zeta-Class Shuttle, sleek, black, and much improved fro