The Abiding Force: A Knight of the Empire (Star Wars)

6: Alone Together

His eyes burned with the light of the training room. It had been many days since he'd last slept, though he was not sure of the exact number. Val could hardly bring himself to focus, let alone to put up any sort of fight against the Knight that opposed him. They never revealed their faces, a cruel tactic to prevent Val and Chiko from telling them apart. There were small differences, but under the terrible strain of the training regimen Val had no energy to discern them.

He defended himself as well as he could, lasting a few scant seconds against his opponent. The sting of the training sword's impact stunned him, another bruise to be healed. He had many of those, cuts as well, though they hardly hurt anymore. Pain was relative and none was so intense as the lightning. It was unavoidable, the punishment for not retaining a lesson hard taught. The martial arts of sword and fist were left to the faceless Knights, but matters of the Force were Korta's domain.

Val dreaded those lessons. He had a basic grasp, the influence of the Korta he had known before. Now his master demanded more and Val found his skill lacking. The compounding failures frustrated him more with each passing day. He took little solace in Chiko's simultaneous failures. They had avoided each other to be spared Korta's wrath. The only lesson they were forced to endure together was Korta's instruction. This was another reason he hated these lessons.

He was forced to watch her unravel. It was surreal to see the fierce, wild girl slowly be broken down by the endless suffering they shared. Val had seen the tears she had furiously wiped away, the distant look in her eyes as she prepared herself for the inevitable pain that would crash upon them. She was his only companion, the cruelest fate that Korta could have inflicted upon him. Val had come to hate the man, this monstrous construct and its faceless lackies.

His refuge was the small sparse room afforded to him. A bed and a desk, limited access to the ship's archive, secluded from the rest of the ship. He could feel those surrounding him, the crewmen and women that lived around him, unaware of the suffering that he endured only a few meters away from them. He hated them also, wanting to reach out and make them see, but unable to reach their minds.

He sat on the floor, trying to collect himself as his mother had shown him under the ancient pine back home. He felt her approach, stopping in front of his door for a long moment. He reached out, waving it open and fixing her with a stare of pure hatred. She looked back at him with hollow eyes for a moment, then looked to the floor. "Can I come in?" she asked, her voice distant.

He didn't know what to say, his mind frozen and heart empty. That hatred felt so hollow now, in this moment. Where had the monster gone? Before him was a girl, fierce, powerful and desperate, just as he was. His heart rebelled, a sickening feeling welling from deep within. She waited patiently, her face passive and eyes averted. Val gave her a long, considered look. He had guarded himself against her, knowing what her tutors had created. 'Don't.' His mind cried, but his heart opposed. There was little she could do to him now.

He reached out and sought her mind for the first time since that horrible night in the command center. He withdrew just as quickly, his curiosity sated and his mind reassured. This was no act, no ploy or deception. She was the only one who knew what he felt and he found a form of security in that. Finally she looked up at him, knowing what he had done. Her ice blue eyes stared into his own, he felt shame, having invaded her thoughts.

"Come in." He mouthed, his lungs unable to full carry the words. She took a single step inside, then sat down as the door closed behind her, resting her back against it. He pointed to the tray of flavorless nutrient paste on the desk, "Want some?" he asked with a grim smile. She didn't find it funny, or so it seemed at first. A smile slowly spread across her face, neither vicious nor taunting. He laughed at that, attributing it to the madness wrought by lack of sleep. "What do you want?" he said, laying back on the cold floor, hoping he might fall into unconsciousness if nothing else.