“We all fall, my Omnirego.”
A soft voice in the void.
Air cooled around the words. The purring of a loth-cat. The rhythmic sloshing of water.
No, it was breathing. It was his breathing.
“Do not close your heart,” the voice spoke again from everywhere and nowhere. He could see nothing. All-encompassing blackness flickered with specks of gold. Something was coming.
A shapeless red haze blew toward him from black infinity. All became red. Then separated into white. Light and shapes manifested. Only blurs; cloudy and rounded. He saw the world through tear-filled eyes.
“When you fall, I fall with you,” it was the same voice but closer now. More real. A shape lowered to fill his vision. He struggled to focus. A face. A kind expression. A woman.
“And we rise together,” her voice was silk. A balm to his wounded pride. Why was he hurting?
“I’m sorry,” another voice spoke. Much closer. It rang in his skull like a tin spoon. Small and unpolished. A child’s voice. He recognized it. Yes, it was his own voice.
“Stand,” the woman’s voice fluttered into his ears. Her hands grasped his arms. They were so small. Her touch was sturdy, not forceful. He did not feel pulled. Gravity seemed to flip in reverse and he was lifted upwards on air.
Her face smiled. Her eyes seemed impossibly large. Impossibly blue. Their gaze penetrated him with warmth but he wanted to recoil. What was this feeling? Shame?
Air stuck in his throat. Fresh tears welled up. He wanted to throw his arms around this woman and sob. He wanted to feel her arms embrace him as he collapsed in catharsis. He knew he couldn’t. He felt shame that the thought entered his mind.
Her expression softened further with understanding. She understood his thoughts without a word. Light from the windows gleamed on her jade skin. The sun desired to look upon her as much as he did. Her face was beautiful. Framed in black. Was it her hair? No…it was fabric, a cornette.
Who was she? Was this his mother? His master?
He didn’t know.
“You are a strong boy, Zeshin,” she spoke. Zeshin? Zesh? That’s right, that was his name. He wanted to say something. Tell her how much she meant to him. He opened his mouth but the words would not come out.
Her expression suddenly fell. She looked somber. Remorseful.
“I know what they’ve done to you,” her tone gloomed. “I know what you’ve done.”
Her eyes glanced downward in admission. Fear coiled up through his small body. His skin shivered. What did she mean? Her grip tightened on his arms. She was scaring him. How did she know? He wanted to run, hide, cover his eyes, but he could not move.
“I’m sorry,” he tearfully croaked. He wanted to scream but all he could force out was a whimper. Her eyes met his again. He still saw care, glazed in sadness. The light in the room faded from warm white to darkening grey. Raindrops fell on window glass, pooling and trickling. Mirroring his tear-streaked face.
Help me. He thought. He could not say it. A low rumble boomed far away. Thunder? Somehow he knew it wasn’t. Explosions? Distant but coming closer. The pattering of rain against the glass became sharper. More staccato. It wasn’t rain. He knew this sound too. It was blaster fire.
A battle? No. No it couldn’t be. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He was just a boy. She had to protect him. He pleaded with her wordlessly. The fear consumed him. He wanted to curl into a ball and shut out the whole world. Yet he could not blink. The sadness in her eyes hardened to seriousness.
“You are a strong boy, Zeshin,” she repeated. This time her words were not comforting but insistent. Demanding. The fear lifted off him. Fresh air filled his lungs. Did she cast some kind of magic spell?
“We rise together,” again she repeated her words. Somehow he knew she wasn’t talking about him falling down anymore. It was something different. The sounds of battle were getting louder, closer. The room began shaking. Explosions roared just outside the windows. The glass splintered and cracked in long spider webs.
“Stand,” she commanded. He could not move. He wanted to move so badly.
“You need to stand up,” she repeated. He willed his body to comply but he could not balance. His legs were numb. Glass shattered. Wind and rain stormed into the room. He felt his body falling forward.
“You need to stand up, Harko!” her voice became a roar before it was lost in the noise.
There was venom on that final word. Harko. A curse? No, it was a name. His name. It belonged to him but...No, he didn’t want it. It felt wrong. This was all wrong. How was it possible? How did she know that name? The floor collapsed under his paralyzed feet. The room collapsed with it and he fell.
He fell forever down an endless pit into a black hole.
A soft voice in the void.
Air cooled around the words. The purring of a loth-cat. The rhythmic sloshing of water.
No, it was breathing. It was his breathing.
“Do not close your heart,” the voice spoke again from everywhere and nowhere. He could see nothing. All-encompassing blackness flickered with specks of gold. Something was coming.
A shapeless red haze blew toward him from black infinity. All became red. Then separated into white. Light and shapes manifested. Only blurs; cloudy and rounded. He saw the world through tear-filled eyes.
“When you fall, I fall with you,” it was the same voice but closer now. More real. A shape lowered to fill his vision. He struggled to focus. A face. A kind expression. A woman.
“And we rise together,” her voice was silk. A balm to his wounded pride. Why was he hurting?
“I’m sorry,” another voice spoke. Much closer. It rang in his skull like a tin spoon. Small and unpolished. A child’s voice. He recognized it. Yes, it was his own voice.
“Stand,” the woman’s voice fluttered into his ears. Her hands grasped his arms. They were so small. Her touch was sturdy, not forceful. He did not feel pulled. Gravity seemed to flip in reverse and he was lifted upwards on air.
Her face smiled. Her eyes seemed impossibly large. Impossibly blue. Their gaze penetrated him with warmth but he wanted to recoil. What was this feeling? Shame?
Air stuck in his throat. Fresh tears welled up. He wanted to throw his arms around this woman and sob. He wanted to feel her arms embrace him as he collapsed in catharsis. He knew he couldn’t. He felt shame that the thought entered his mind.
Her expression softened further with understanding. She understood his thoughts without a word. Light from the windows gleamed on her jade skin. The sun desired to look upon her as much as he did. Her face was beautiful. Framed in black. Was it her hair? No…it was fabric, a cornette.
Who was she? Was this his mother? His master?
He didn’t know.
“You are a strong boy, Zeshin,” she spoke. Zeshin? Zesh? That’s right, that was his name. He wanted to say something. Tell her how much she meant to him. He opened his mouth but the words would not come out.
Her expression suddenly fell. She looked somber. Remorseful.
“I know what they’ve done to you,” her tone gloomed. “I know what you’ve done.”
Her eyes glanced downward in admission. Fear coiled up through his small body. His skin shivered. What did she mean? Her grip tightened on his arms. She was scaring him. How did she know? He wanted to run, hide, cover his eyes, but he could not move.
“I’m sorry,” he tearfully croaked. He wanted to scream but all he could force out was a whimper. Her eyes met his again. He still saw care, glazed in sadness. The light in the room faded from warm white to darkening grey. Raindrops fell on window glass, pooling and trickling. Mirroring his tear-streaked face.
Help me. He thought. He could not say it. A low rumble boomed far away. Thunder? Somehow he knew it wasn’t. Explosions? Distant but coming closer. The pattering of rain against the glass became sharper. More staccato. It wasn’t rain. He knew this sound too. It was blaster fire.
A battle? No. No it couldn’t be. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He was just a boy. She had to protect him. He pleaded with her wordlessly. The fear consumed him. He wanted to curl into a ball and shut out the whole world. Yet he could not blink. The sadness in her eyes hardened to seriousness.
“You are a strong boy, Zeshin,” she repeated. This time her words were not comforting but insistent. Demanding. The fear lifted off him. Fresh air filled his lungs. Did she cast some kind of magic spell?
“We rise together,” again she repeated her words. Somehow he knew she wasn’t talking about him falling down anymore. It was something different. The sounds of battle were getting louder, closer. The room began shaking. Explosions roared just outside the windows. The glass splintered and cracked in long spider webs.
“Stand,” she commanded. He could not move. He wanted to move so badly.
“You need to stand up,” she repeated. He willed his body to comply but he could not balance. His legs were numb. Glass shattered. Wind and rain stormed into the room. He felt his body falling forward.
“You need to stand up, Harko!” her voice became a roar before it was lost in the noise.
There was venom on that final word. Harko. A curse? No, it was a name. His name. It belonged to him but...No, he didn’t want it. It felt wrong. This was all wrong. How was it possible? How did she know that name? The floor collapsed under his paralyzed feet. The room collapsed with it and he fell.
He fell forever down an endless pit into a black hole.
Darkness. The muffled sounds of conflict swirled in his consciousness.
“You need to stand up, Harko!” the woman’s voice echoed. Not only hers, there was another voice layered within it.
“What’s wrong with him?” a third voice limped in through the dark, echoing faintly like a rock skipping across still water.
He had no sense of anything. No touch, no sight. He was no longer falling. Floating maybe? He wasn’t sure but he felt more awake than before, more presently aware. He was Zeshin. He was Harko. He existed and he was somewhere.
Light.
Blackness gave way to brilliant white. The big bang? A loud rumble. The sound of an explosion impossibly far away. It should have been blinding, painful, but it wasn’t. The blank eternity morphed in front of him. Shapes. Shadows. Definition and dimension forming, but all of it was bizarre, surreal.
What is this? The only thought. He could not move; at least he didn’t seem to be moving. He could not feel his body, if he still had one.
“We’re running out of time,” the third voice spoke again. Time. A new layer of perspective. He became more aware. How long had he been…sleeping?
“Hit him again,” the voice boomed. As the shapes continued to materialize he could see an outline of this speaker. The form of a person but vague. Hit who? Hit me? He thought.
Shadows and colors painted the canvas of his vision. He tried to speak, to ask this being what it wanted, but his lips only quivered. They did quiver, he knew it, he felt something. Another shape moved closer to him, another person, its movements frantic. The world became more defined. He was in a room but different than the one before, the one with the woman. He didn’t recognize this one either. His vision was blurred like looking through frosted glass.
I am. I am awake. The thought came with a new sense of presence. Self-awareness. Fear. Original sin.
“Stand up, Harko!” the first person screamed from a doorway. The voice was more distinct now but he could still hear echoes of that woman in the words. He could see details. The room sharpened as if a ring was being twisted on a camera lens.
Eyes, nose, mouth. Arms, legs, hands. Yes, the person speaking was a man. A human. He had brown hair poking out from under the brim of a worn patrol cap. Tan skin. He was young, no older than twenty-five standard years. He was clad in a thick brown jacket criss-crossed with leather bandoliers. He had something on his face. Flashes of red blaster bolts reflected across it. Was it a visor or some kind of goggles? He held something in his hands. Black. Metallic. A blaster. Was he an enemy?
Enemy. The word came with a shudder of fear followed by a familiar feeling of resolve. Harko knew how to handle enemies. His instincts sent millions of nerve signals for his muscles to react. Nothing. He could not move, only watch.
Hands appeared and grasped the sides of his face. It was the second person. This one was different. Not human. Large black eyes stared into him. Harko’s instincts fired again. Headbutt the enemy. He did not move. It was useless.
“Can you hear me?” a mouth moved under flaps of jowls on the face. It was a sullustan. Male, judging by the timbre of its thickly-accented voice. He wore a leather cap with straps that came down in front of large ears that extended from the head like radar dishes.
“Hau inyouthe mukaiha?” the sullustan repeated. It was sullustese. Harko could only make out the word hear. “We are friendly. We are here to get you out.”
Friend. The word was more terrifying than enemy. It was a word of deception. Harko knew that game all too well. If he could not move then he would would have to play along.
“Nod if you can hear me,” the sullustan insisted. It took incredible physical force for Harko to comply but he was able to slightly nod his head.
“Good, the drugs are working,” the sullustan spoke to both Harko and the man in the doorway.
“Not fast enough!” the man shouted back before leaning forward and firing his blaster out of the door. A hallway. Metal and plastoid. They were on a ship. The weapon’s report made Harko’s muscles twitch. There was a bellow from across the hall. It sounded like a beast.
Harko’s eyes focused on the source. Another creature in the room directly across from theirs. Not human but it was upright and wearing clothes. A brown jumpsuit cut off at the shoulders and mid-calves revealing greenish-brown scales. It had three pronounced ridges on its head above speckled yellow eyes with slanted pupils. Like the man, it also wore a visor, belts, and bandoliers. Ammunition and mis-matched pouches clung to the strips of leather. In large three-fingered hands it clutched a blaster rifle. The mouth opened as it roared again, revealing dozens of pointed teeth. A Trandoshan.
“I know, just a little longer!” the man shouted a reply. The trandoshan was part of their group. Another friend. “How much longer, Doc?”
Harko’s view of the man was broken by a blinding light. He focused and could see the sullustan was shining something into his eyes. A small flashlight.
“Can you speak?” the doc asked him. “Can you tell me your name?”
Harko knew this must be a trick. He’d heard the human already say his name. Harko. He wouldn’t validate them, that would only give them more leverage in a situation where he was clearly at a disadvantage.
“J-jurrr,” he slurred as he attempted to force his tongue and lips to make the words. “Jouuurr. JorShh. JorshenDaa. Jor. Jor Sin’Dar.”
“What’s he saying?” The human asked the doc.
“I’m not sure, could be damage from the carbonite, but at least he’s speaking,” the sullustan replied as a blaster shot split the air. The blot collided with the doorway. It was deafening. A shower of sparks kicked off the metal making the human recoil further into the room.
“Please listen and try not to panic,” the doc continued to Harko. He held up a gloved finger pointing at Harko’s face. “Touch your finger to mine.”
Harko looked around. His legs were in front of him. He was on the ground, seated on the floor. His back resting up against something hard.
“Try to touch my finger,” the doc repeated.
Harko struggled to lift his arm. It felt tied down but he could see no restraints. Was someone holding him? Was it the force? No, his muscles were simply numb and sluggish. Through considerable strain he raised his hand.
You are a strong boy, Zeshin.
Touch his finger. He demanded of himself. His own fingers twitched, he could not feel them but he knew he was in control. He pulled four fingers back into his palm, extending only one. The first attempt missed but the second time, he pushed his index into the doc’s.
“Very good,” the sullustan commended him, speaking slowly. “I know it’s difficult. You’ve been asleep for quite some time. My name is Bdebb, I’ve given you an injection. The drugs will help you to move. We need to go now.”
“We don’t have time for this, doc,” the man in the doorway interrupted. A volley of red bolts flew past the doorway. Harko watched the trandoshan lean forward and return fire at whoever was attacking them. “You can check his prostate after we’re back on the Goose.”
The man stepped over and grabbed Harko under the arms. Grunting, he lifted the limp man up, pushing him hard against the surface behind him.
“Wait, wait, slowly” the doc protested but begrudgingly assisted.
“Stand up, Harko,” the man commanded. Harko held his breath.
You need to stand up.
She wasn’t real. Was any of this real? He could not gain his balance. His legs felt foreign. His muscles seized in trying to hold even a small amount of his body weight.
“Who-who are you?” Harko whispered.
“Don’t worry about that,” the man growled under the strain of holding up Harko’s body. “Stand the kriff up.”
“Wyl, come in. What’s going on in there? Wyl?” a new voice crackled over a commlink cylinder strapped to one of the leather bandoliers on the man’s chest.
“This isn’t gonna work,” the man grunted to Bdebb, releasing his grip. Despite his best efforts to stand, Harko slumped back down to the floor. “Hit him again.”
“I’ve already given him two doses, if I inject him again-” the sullustan pleaded before being cut off.
“Hit him again! If we can’t move him then we’re all dead,” the man called Wyl shouted before drawing his blaster again. The trandoshan fired another burst from his rifle. Red lights. Noise. Crashes. Sparks.
“Get ready to move!” Wyl shouted to the reptilian as he joined in with his own blaster fire. The doc readied what looked like some kind of gun-shaped device. He placed the butt of the tool against Harko’s thigh.
“I’m sorry,” Bdebb said softly before the device clicked and hissed. Another injection entered Harko’s bloodstream. His vision began to blur again. Colors faded to shades of grey. Darkness crept in around the edges.
I’m sorry.
The voice of that little boy. His voice.
Only echoes. Only darkness.
Harko drifted through the void of space. He was naked, gliding silently through endless ink. Peace.
He stared up. At least he thought it was up. There is no such thing as up or down in outer space.
Singular bright comets flew above him. They were tremendously bright and tremendously fast. Far away but directly parallel to him, they sailed in the opposite direction. One after another, they entered his field of view and disappeared below his feet.
Look for me at sunset
Or in the shooting stars
Death is not so final
When you may need to see me
I am never far away
Harko knew that poem. Someone had told it to him once. He couldn’t remember who.
Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? It wasn’t so bad. It was better than he deserved.
Another comet soared above. Its long white tail shimmered to a faint point of twinkling dust. Two more comets sailed past it, much smaller but much faster. They were not white but glowing red.
Then came another, in the other direction. It collided with the white comet. The astral bodies shook and shattered on impact. A low BOOM rumbled in the vacuum.
Harko gasped. In that same moment he became aware of his breath. Was he breathing in space?
Shards of the comets spilled out in all directions. They blazed shades of white and gold, falling. Falling toward him. They were coming so fast and with them, noise. Blaring, deafening noise. It sounded like a million screaming voices, a million bombs, a million blasters firing in unison. He shut his eyes. This must be the end.
Pain. Heat on his face. He opened his eyes. He wasn’t in space anymore. He could make out the metallic walls of a starship. His body was low to the ground. How was he moving? It wasn’t through his own effort. Something was pulling him. Someone.
Another white comet floated overhead. No, it was a light. An overhead light in a hallway. Then another. Blaster fire flew below the lights. He could feel his body now, the floor underneath, the painful cinch of his clothing as he was dragged. Voices shouted over the familiar Ktshiew Ktshiew of blasters being discharged. There was also something else. Rhythmic and droning. An alarm?
The situation came flooding in. The room, the hall, the man with the gun. Harko sifted through too much information. Wyl, the voice on the commlink called him Wyl, and the sullustan, the doctor, Bdebb. The injection, what had they given him?
“We are friendly. We are here to get you out,” he remembered what the doc told him. He wasn’t convinced they were friendly but wherever he was, whatever this battle was about, he definitely wanted to get out.
“Smoke!” a voice behind Harko shouted. It was that man Wyl’s voice. Clink. A pin being pulled from a grenade. A dark cylinder waffled through the air. Snap. The hallway was enveloped in a cloud of milky grey fog. The crack of the grenade was loud, followed by a high-pitched ringing in Harko’s ears.
“Get him up,” the muffled voice of Wyl spoke. “Grab his other side.”
We rise together.
He could hear her. It was real. She was really there after all. Harko felt his body being lifted. The strong arm of the trandoshan held him across the back. He could finally feel his feet below him. Walk. Walk, damn you. Harko urged himself. One step, then another.
For the first time he could see down the length of the corridor. Through the haze still hanging in the air he could see red lights flashing on tops of the walls, below them were Imperial insignias. Bdebb was running in front of him but something about his gait looked…off. A blaster round flew over his head, crashing into the ceiling. Harko could see every movement of it in slow-motion.
Then he saw her. Standing at the end of the hallway. That woman. The same face he had seen in his dream. Was it a dream? It felt so real. The noise, the pain, the battle. She was right there in front of an entryway, clad in long black robes, beckoning him closer with one arm. It couldn’t be a dream. It was all so awful but please let it be real.
She shouldn’t be here. It was too dangerous. He wanted to protect her. She was precious to him. Why was she precious to him?
Harko limped toward her with the help of the two men at his sides. Her hand beckoned again, faster now. The flashing red glow of the alarm illuminated her jade skin. He could see small black tattoos adorning her chin and cheeks. He was coming for her. It had been so long. He was going home.
A pneumatic door to her left sprang open. Harko saw the barrel of the blaster first before the person holding it came into view. He didn’t look like the others. He wore a uniform. His body language told Harko who he was. Enemy. The man lifted the blaster up, aiming at the woman.
“No!” Harko screamed. He lurched forward, tearing out of the grip of his companions, and fell to his knees. He looked forward, helpless, preparing to watch her die. To watch his heart break.
Her face didn’t react to the danger. She held eye contact with Harko, a soft smile appearing in the corner of her lips. One of her arms rapidly raised up, hand gripping a blaster pistol. It looked different than the rest of her. A third arm? It couldn’t be. Her movement was a blur. She was aiming the blaster right at Harko’s head. Why? Why me?
Ktshiew
A bolt of energy erupted from her blaster’s barrel. Harko flinched. He saw the glowing red hue of the shot behind his closed eyes.
I’m sorry.
A moment passed. Death had not come. Not for him. He looked forward and saw a red shower of blood spilling from the uniformed soldier’s face. His blaster clattered on the metal floor along with his body. Smoke listed up from the woman’s blaster barrel. She turned her head back to Harko. As she did, her features shifted and morphed. Her skin and robes moved like liquid.
“Hurry!” she yelled but it wasn’t the same voice. Harko blinked and saw a different woman now. She was a human. Her skin was light, contrasted by the dark layers of black and leather that made up her battle garments. Was it a mirage? Was she a shapeshifter? Nothing felt real.
Harko was lifted once again. He shuffled his feet to help them move him. They shifted to the right, making room for the woman to fire her blaster back down the hallway, covering their escape. Harko couldn’t see what was beyond the open doorway ahead of them, only dark shapes, but he could tell it was unlike the rest of the ship.
Another step. Then another. Then pain. Searing pain scorched across his lower back. He cried out, falling again. Bright blobs of light flickered in his vision. He could smell burnt flesh.
When you fall, I fall with you.
“No!” a voice shouted. It sounded like his own voice from moments ago. Was it him? No, it was different. It was Wyl’s. “He’s hit! Get him inside!”
“Hurry, please!” Bdebb begged. Harko was abruptly lifted off the ground and hurled through the air. He landed hard on the floor, less than a meter from the doorway. Bdebb and the woman pulled his body inside. Harko turned over to lie on his back, writhing in pain. The dark lines of the doorway framed his vision. Wyl and the trandoshan were facing away, firing their weapons down the hallway. Harko could make out the shapes of more uniformed men coming through the smoke, firing back.
“Start the engine!” Wyl hollered over his shoulder in Harko’s direction. The woman sprang into the action, disappearing deeper in the new dark room. Harko tried to catch his breath but he could feel it growing shallow. Pain coursed through his body with every pump of his heart. The blistering heat he felt before was replaced with an icy chill coating his skin. Bdebb knelt over Harko’s body, frantically picking through a box of medical supplies.
“He’s going into shock,” the doc announced, his trembling fingers struggling to load something into the injection gun.
“Go! Go! Go!” Wyl screamed, firing a final round of blasts as he scrambled through the door followed by the trandoshan. He pushed his hand into a button on the control panel mounted to the doorway. The thick sheet of metal slammed shut with a pneumatic hiss.
New overhead lights flickered on inside the room. The walls were distinctly different from the rest of the ship. Harko heard the distinctive rattling whine of an engine coming to life.
“Depressurizing!” that human woman yelled from somewhere distant. Wyl ran out of view. The trandoshan pressed his large frame against the wall. He was close enough now for Harko to see the mixed expression of fear and relief on the reptile’s face. Harko moved to get up but Bdebb pushed him back down.
“Hold still, please,” the doc said, readying the injection. Not again. Harko grabbed the sullustan by the wrist.
“Konba! Konba, help!” Bdebb shrieked. The trandoshan came to his aid, easily pushing Harko’s arms down and pinning him to the floor. “Hold him still, we need to keep him stable.”
Click. Tsss. Bdebb’s tool injected a shot into Harko’s thigh. The previous time Harko had felt nothing. Now he groaned in pain. It felt like a shiv was stabbed into his leg.
“Bastards,” Harko hissed through his teeth, "I won't leave her. Not again." The floor shuddered beneath him. An engine hummed as a throttle was pushed. Harko realized this wasn’t the same ship he had woken up on. He could hear his breathing louder in his head now. His heart rate dropped.
“Who? Please listen, try to relax,” Bdebb instructed, “breathe in, breathe out. You will begin to feel a sfte felwol cmpl-”
The sound of the sullustan’s voice faded to unintelligible tones and mumbles. The high-pitched whine returned to Harko’s ears. His breathing became louder. He felt like he was being pulled underwater. Colors muted. The lights behind the two forms crowding on top of him bloomed and brightened. Darkness crept into the corners of his eyes.
Not again. Not like this. The last time he blacked out he felt serene. This was horror. He did not know these people. He didn’t know where he had been, where he was, or where they were taking him.
Images flashed in his mind of a prison cell. A chain clanking on concrete. He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. Imperial officers. An electro-baton crackled. A city in flames. He saw Baltizaar. A forest. He saw fireflies. Wet tarps. Lightning. He saw his old comrade Sola with his signature grin. He saw a speeder crash. He heard wind and rain. The screech of a TIE fighter. Where was she? Where was she now? Where was she when he needed her so badly?
He saw a sunset. Shooting stars.
Darkness.
