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{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.
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Chapter 12 - Coruscant Landing
“Careful…careful there, Jav; don’t joss’l her like tha. Keep her steady, now.”
Nhat’s voice held a note of worry, a fact all the more disturbing because Jorda couldn’t recall the last time his trainee had worried over anyone. With his mother Rrista dead, Jorda knew very little mattered to Nhat anymore, aside from his studies and a few old friends. The medic watched as two of his trainees, Nhat and Javin Needa, adjusted their grips accordingly before one of them...Jorda couldn’t tell which one from his current position...punched in the code designed to release the service ramp beneath them.
With a slight thunk as their only warning, the ramp began to descend. As soon as they touched the ground, Jorda and the rest of his team moved away from the ship as quickly as possible, to allow Nhat and Javin enough room to switch on the repulsorlift located on the underside of the stasis pod.
Once the two men were set, they turned and nodded to Jorda.
“All right then,” he said quietly, looking at each of his four assistants, “Let’s get her to the Medcenter.”
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Palpatine was pacing when Captain Panaka entered the chamber, and looked up for a moment at the intrusion, before continuing.
“The Republic is not what it once was, Your Highness,” he said with regret, “The Senate is full of greedy, squabbling delegates who are only looking out for themselves and their home systems. There is no interest in the common good...no civility, only politics...it's disgusting. I must be frank, Your Majesty, there is little chance the Senate will act on the invasion."
Queen Amidala was still as he paced, her eyes solemn and her face expressionless. “Chancellor Valorum seems to think there is hope,” she said in a cool voice.
The Senator shook his head at her statement, an action that ignited a very powerful feeling of anger in Amidala. He was acting as if she were a mere figurehead when their people depended on her to end the Federation’s occupation. Every minute wasted was costing lives, and all Naboo's Senator could do was shake his head like she was some naïve diplomat fresh from the Youth Legislation.
“If I may say so, Your Majesty,” Palpatine said quietly, as though he sensed her anger, “The Chancellor has little real power...he is mired down by baseless accusations of corruption. The bureaucrats are in charge now.”
The pity in his eyes was unbearable; Amidala felt her heart break at her Senator’s devastating words. What hope did her people have now, if the Senate was so corrupted that the Chancellor could do nothing? Bowing her head in despair, Amidala took a deep, steadying breath, before raising her eyes, looking beyond Palpatine to the exterior hallway, where Anakin and Jar Jar waited.
“What options do we have?” the Queen asked, her voice devoid of emotion.
Her eyes fixed on the boy outside the room, Amidala missed the triumphant smile that flashed across her Senator’s face.
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“Once we’ve released her from stasis,” said Jorda in a quiet voice as he sterilized his hands, “Her cells will begin to regenerate at an accelerated rate. Every second wasted will bring her an inch closer to death. Do you all understand this?”
Though his back was toward his trainees, Jorda commanded their attention with the sound of his voice. They had never before been as important as they were now: a patient under their care had never been as close to death as Alia. For a moment Jorda hesitated, his eyes blurring as he stared his hands. She had been so kind to him earlier, despite her teasing; she’d given them all a chance to forget, for a time, that their homes were under attack, that their families could be dead. Blinking away the moisture that threatened his vision, Jorda took a slow, deep breath.
When he turned around to face Javin, Kovath, Nhat, and Solié, his face was calm, with no trace of the despair that threatened. Jorda said nothing as he walked to where Alia’s pod lay beside the operating biobed. Activating the surgical hologrid, he and his trainees watched as a blue holographic image of Alia’s form appeared above the biobed. It would be Kovath’s duty to monitor her lifesigns on the panel opposite of Jorda. If there was any indication her vitals became critical, the procedure would be terminated and they would return her to the stasis pod.
To his right, Solié waited, her eyes fixed on the readings in front of her. It would be her responsibility to keep him informed of the drakar’s progress.
And before him, Javin and Nhat stood by Alia’s pod, ready to transfer her body as quickly as possible to the operating biobed. Jorda placed the neural interface around his head, switching on the surgical computer before raising his head to meet their eyes. Nodding quickly, Nhat depressed the locking mechanism on the stasis pod, which was followed by a swoosh of air as the pod opened before their eyes. Taking a deep breath, Nhat then deactivated the kolto beams surrounding Alia’s body, and in one swift movement, he and Javin quickly grabbed her arms and legs, pulled her out of the pod and laid her upon the biobed.
Immediately Jorda flew into action, running diagnostic after diagnostic to ensure the path of the drakar hadn’t deviated. At the same time, Nhat ripped away the portion of her clothing covering her upper torso. For a few seconds, Jorda hardly dared to breathe: visible to everyone now was a thick, angry red line, marking the path of the drakar. Steering his mind away from distraction, he concentrated on the task before him: slowly, slowly….with unhurried precision, Jorda carefully focused the tip of the bio-etheric laser above Alia’s heart, enhancing the surgical screen to within 500 percent of its usual capability. / Nammu, let me help her. /
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Help me! Help me! Help me!
The words ran over and over in Alia’s mind as she tried to push through the haze of pain clouding her senses. All around her was darkness, blacker than any night sky she’d ever seen. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, everything in her body focused on the thing killing her. Alia could feel its cold, brutal presence assaulting her body, could feel its sharpened teeth digging into her muscles, and felt with mind-numbing clarity exactly how she was going to die.
Help me! Help me!
And then the moment stopped, leaving her body frozen but her mind free. Well, as free as anyone could be when their entire body is petrified, helpless to do anything except relive this moment, this instant, over and over and over and over and over……
Help me!
Despite her screams, the world around her gradually grew still, the echoes of her screams dying away as everything faded to black.
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Sigh.
Sigh.
Sigh.
“You okay there, Jar Jar?” asked the Gungan’s companion.
Jar Jar looked at the blond little human, and sighed again. Of course he wasn’t alright: he hadn’t been able to find Padmé, he was worried about Alia, and he was starting to feel hungry. But Anakin was just a baby; he couldn’t be expected to know any better.
“Mesa juss wishen Al-ya was here, Ani,” he replied, leaning back in his seat, “Mebbe den shesa sing-i for mesa; dat allus make-en mesa feel bedda.”
“Alya? Is she a Gungan like you?” Anakin couldn’t keep the curiosity out of his voice; he’d heard Jar Jar talk about this mysterious Alya ever since they worked on the Pod together. She’d sounded like an adventurer to him: like someone out of a space pirate’s tale.
He was surprised, however, when Jar Jar started laughing. Anakin's cheeks flushed an angry red as he turned away from the alien, feeling humiliated for some reason. A scaly hand reached out to him, which he shook off. Another hand reached out, put itself around Anakin’s shoulders, and effectively turned him back toward Jar Jar.
The Gungan’s yellow eyes were gentle as they looked at Anakin. “No be angwee, Ani, mesa juss laffin ‘bout juss tinken iffn Al-ya be-en Gungan. Berry funny, berry berry funny, Ani!”
Jar Jar laughed again, his body lolling around, and by extension Anakin.
“No, no, Al-ya no be-en Gungan,” Jar Jar said, squeezing his arm around his human friend, “Shesa like yousa, only mure bigga, mesa tinks, and mure talla, and she gots da mud hair and da sky-eyeses.”
The Gungan sighed again, his whole face falling. Surprised at this change from Jar Jar’s normal cheerful-but-clueless attitude, Anakin furrowed his brows in concentration as he looked carefully at Jar Jar. / Alya is important to him/ the former slave realized.
“Shesa be-en mya bestest frend; shesa be-en mya on'y frend, mesa tinks,” Jar Jar continued softly, smiling sadly at Anakin, as though to confirm his suspicions. The Gungan’s eyes grew distant as he recalled, “I ‘member when shesa come ta visit Otoh Gunga unda da watta on Naboo; shesa allus bring-i da pwessents and da tell-os.”
Anakin perked up at this. “Tell-os? Are those like stories?”
Slowly, Jar Jar nodded his head. “Mesa tink I ‘member Al-ya callen dem dat, yes.”
“What kind of stories?” His energy revitalized, Anakin sat up straight in his seat, turning his whole body toward Jar Jar. For the moment, his preoccupation with Padmé was forgotten.
“All kinds,” the Gungan answered, “Tell-os ‘bout da places shesa go, da ayl-yuns shesa see….evryting wesa wanten, shesa tell Zasa and mesa.”
“Who’s Zasa?” asked Anakin, thrown for a moment by this new character.
“Shesa da dotta of da Big Boss Nass, His Honor. Al-ya be-en her frend, too, mesa tinks,” Jar Jar replied. Suddenly, a laugh exploded from the Gungan’s throat, quickly becoming a giggle. “Mesa ‘member when Al-ya first showen us a ‘sto-ree.’ Zasa be jumpin’ outta her skin!”
Jar Jar sighed again, suddenly, then said wistfully, “Mesa wishen Al-ya was tellen us a sto-ree right now. Or sing-i her moosika. Her sing-i voice be-en so bootiful. Yousa like it, Ani, mesa know you would.”
Anakin looked at Jar Jar; one thing he’d noticed about the Gungan was the way he wore his heart (or whatever constituted as a heart for Gungans) on his sleeve. The former slave wasn’t used to people being so open about how they feel. And right now, Jar Jar was openly miserable.
“Where is Alya, Jar Jar?” he asked, not unkindly.
The Gungan sniffed loudly.
“Shesa gotta bad sickness. Dat heela on da ship took her.”
“Well, I’m sure we can find her.”
Jar Jar looked at Anakin with big eyes.
“Yousa meenen dat, Ani?” It was almost funny how quickly his face fell. Almost. “But, wesa no-knowen where shesa is.”
“That’s not a problem,” replied Anakin confidently, giving Jar Jar a wink, “It never stopped me before.”
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“Is there any other way?”
She hated seeing the pitying expression in Palpatine’s eyes.
“Our only other choice would to be to submit a plea to the courts...” the Senator suggested tentatively.
“There's no time for that,” Amidala replied acerbically, “The courts take even longer to decide things than the Senate. Our people are dying, Senator...more and more each day. We must do something quickly to stop the Federation.”
There it was again; that pitying expression. “To be realistic, Your Highness, I'd say we're going to have to accept Federation control for the time being.”
Eyes bleak, Amidala bowed her head. “That is something I cannot do.”
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Dark. Warm. Safe. All around her was darkness...all around her was warmth. Why had she been so afraid? Once, long ago, she had felt this same measure of safety, this same measure of protection. She had been so loved...before...before...Gentle hands held her now, cradling her whether she slept or woke: here, there was no distinction. She was safe; she was loved.
I am your little rabbit...I wiggle my little ears...I'm playing hide-and-seek...In the vineberry field.
Someone was singing softly. It was a strange song, for how could a rabbit speak? And what was a vineberry field? And yet, those things didn't matter: for the words were passing over Alia like a faint, warm breath passing over a cool cheek, pausing so slightly around her that Alia could almost swear she felt them kiss her. The voice, warm and gentle, was singing so softly that Alia couldn't be sure if its sound, so beautiful, so complete, so pure, had always been a part of this place, or had suddenly come into being.
Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit...a spanking you should take...for holes in Neighbor's garden...you should not make.
As the voice continued to sing, its cadence soothing, its flow of words caressing her like a playful breeze, the place around her began to change. It grew brighter, but it was a strange brightness, as if something was covering her eyes. Alia should have been frightened: what if she was blind? What if she was stuck in a ship's exhaust port? What if she was some nutcase zealot's hostage? It wouldn't have been the first time, either.
Don't close your eyes to me...Don't wiggle your ears to me...Don't wrinkle your nose to me...Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit.
Where had she heard this song before? It sounded like a lullaby; had someone sung it to her when she was a child? The brightness around her grew, though it was still muted, as if passing through a barrier. Her singer was changing as well: before their voice had been gentle and light, and now she could hear places where they sang in a slightly deeper tone, becoming richer and more off-key. Her singer's new voice seemed warmer than the first, more full of life, amusement and affection. Their tone was slightly harsher, and instead of sunshine, felt more like Terran whiskey running itself along her spine.
Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit...Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit...
And then, suddenly in her mind's eye, Alia felt a veil pass from her eyes, and there she was: the singer. So sudden, so familiar, so loved...They beckoned to Alia, the light dancing across the auburn highlights of their hair, their smile showing off an impressive set of teeth. Alia felt a tug on her heart, and with tears in her eyes, she sang the last refrain with her singer.
"Dasoula, dasoula." Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit.
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From the Author - -
“If anyone is having problems understanding Jar Jar, let me know what I’m doing wrong. Thanks.”
Pronunciation - "Anakin's pronunciation of Alia's name is wrong, but he doesn't realize it yet. 'Al-ya' is the closest approximation Jar Jar can make, and so Alia (pronounced Ah-lee-ah)'s name is further mangled to Alya."
"The song in this chapter is a Greek children's song; I've adapted it to this story as I've seen fit. Cheers."
Author's Notes
Rrista Nhat's mother; as in "Rrista Korbi."
Medcenter refers to the Galactic Senate Medcenter
Bio-etheric laser the laser used in Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within.
Javin Needa is in no way related to Captain Needa in Empire Strikes Back; I just liked the surname ‘Needa.’
Biobef I'm a Star Trek fan. Figure this one out.
Nammu like I did with Tatooine, I've created a pantheon of deities for Naboo. In my 'verse, Nammu is the mother sea goddess of Naboo. Her son Ningiku is the Lord of Land, and is the most revered of most Nabooians. Healers on Naboo, however, are said to feel a special bond with Nammu because of the many healing properties of water.
