Forget Me Not

25

"You have a choice." The voice was deep and calm, though edged with authority and menace. "I will send you out and you will do my bidding, or I will lay hands on the one closest to you."

"There are a few close to me," I said through gritted teeth, tugging at the durasteel cuffs that bound my wrists. "To which one do you refer?"

His cold eyes flicked across to me. "I think you're smart enough to guess."

My heart clenched around the name that jumped into my mind, but I forced myself not to show my fear. "What will 'your bidding' consist of?"

"I want destruction," he purred, his leisurely paces lengthening. "I want terror. I want pain. I want death. I want to see the innocent bleed."

"You're sick," I spat. "You are cruelly heartless and senselessly evil."

"Am I?" he questioned innocently before his eyes narrowed until they glinted. "Or are you?"

I dragged my mind from the depths of the dream, shaking as the memory of it faded. A chilly wind bit into me, nipping into bare skin as I curled up tighter. A neat pile of clothes, topped by my old mask, had been folded up next me, nestled under the wing of the ship that sheltered me, too. As I crawled into them, the relief at finally covering my half-exposed body washed over me, and my only regret was that I couldn't thank Maul personally for his gift. Wrapping the tight, long-sleeve around my waist, I gingerly exchanged my old and torn shirt for the looser, shorter sleeved tunic, settling it over my menagerie of bruises, burns, and saber wounds. This time, Maul had decided the one I wore should come with a thin hood, a feature I utilized immediately. He must have found my boots with my mask, having thoughtfully deposited them beside the new clothes.

My whole body trembled as I curled up again, exhausted from the exertion of dressing myself. Shivers tickled my spine, followed closely by the hot flush of fever, and I knew I was in trouble. I needed to take care of myself before the infection from my untreated wounds set in properly, but I was so tired ... and so cold ....

I forced my heavy eyelids open, wrestling with the lethargy that spread over me like a lead blanket. The frigid wind whistled around me, tugging at my short blond hair and throwing it in my face. I couldn't tell if it was teasing me or trying to help me, but I didn't like it, sliding out from under the ship's wing and using every ounce of my remaining strength to drag me into the cockpit. The wind chased me the whole way, darting between me and the Coruscanti rooftop on which I was perched. I had no idea how Maul had hauled me up here or why my ship was parked here specifically, but something told me I didn't want to know. Maul was insane at the best of times.

"San Riner 500," I whispered, then slurred out the coordinates for my next destination, grateful when my computer confirmed my request. The flight was smooth and soporific, and I wandered along the edge of awareness, dipping sometimes into sleep and sometimes into unconsciousness.

I had to try four times before I could convince myself that I had landed and that I should do something about it. I had been here before; I knew I couldn't give in to the urge to lie down and sleep any more than I already had.

Drawing in a slow breath, I sat up carefully, then began nosing through the supplies in the back of my ship. The tatty medkit cast into the corner seemed the best place to start. I still had yet to scrounge some bacta from somewhere, but like most lower tier people, I could live without it. I hoped I could, anyway.

My first action was to dig past the wads of gauze, the tubs of antiseptic creams, and the bottles of saline to find a painkiller-filled hypospray. Stabbing it into my neck, I relaxed into the comforting hiss, then tossed the empty canister at the graveyard of used hypos. Grabbing another hypo, this time full of stimulants, I pressed that against my neck, then fired it after its buddy.