Out of the Force (Transcript)

[Charlotte]

MYRKR

Without Sight


The soft winds that whispered through the trees shifted the leaves outside her window. But she would not have taken notice. Months that had passed from then and now had been filled with endless nights for the Jedi Master. She had slept almost non-stop since her leaving Ord Mantel. It was a much needed rest, for however unwanted it had become. Murra Tekal had never been one to lay down and let the physical dictate what must be done. But this, this was something completely out of her control. There had been medical staff on duty at all times, bustling around the make shift, and temporary house. They had set up a nutrient feed, running from a system that sat near her bed, down into her arm. This was the only form of medication, and supplements that her body would allow.

One of the problems with being a healer, as she was, was that the body knew what was foreign and what wasn't. It rejected any and all treatments that had not come from Murra herself. This was why the move to Myrkr. The staff had been lead to believe that should they hold up here, her natural affinity with the Force would be diminished enough to allow them to do their job.

Even still, it was slow going. They had to build a second story to the shack, elevating her room so that she would be closer to a grouping of animals who, they had been told as well, created a bubble of Force negating energy. This was where they worked on her, attempting to break and reset bones, regulating her bodily functions in an attempt to get her back on the right track. Things were a lot harder then they had expected.

Her resilience and will fought against her more times then not. Her mind wished to be healed, but it was another matter when trying to convince the body that what they were doing was good for the form. A slow, small sigh escaped from her lips and she shifted on the bed, tossed to the right slightly, pulling the tube of nutrients from her arm. It had happened dozens of times by now, and still they had not discovered a way to get around it. She was fitful when she slept, nightmares and violent dreams crept up from every corner, even in the silence and stillness that the medical staff had created for her.



A light, cool touch on Murra's arm, just above where the needle had been inserted--fingers applying gentle, firm pressure there. Someone lowly and quietly said, "You'd think that, after the fifth or sixth time that happened, someone might have tried to rig it up differently."

Somehow, though there had not be hostility in the tone, it earned a reaction all the same, and one of Murra's doctors, back toward the door, stammered something about limited equipment, caught halfway between professional insult and something that might honestly have been fear.

If it hadn't been the feeling of someone touching her arm, it would have been the sound of the voice. But she started, her eyes opening and sweeping the room in a grey-white haze. They fixated on nothing, searching for the people who had broken her sleep with unseeing eyes. This, too, was yet another thing she had lost to the Destruction. The ravaging of her form went as far deep as any psychological damage could have gone, it also affected the physical as well. Her sight, her strength...almost everything that she had been before Ord Mantel had been lost in that battle. Without the Force, she was just as nearly blind as she had pretended to be during her mission. "Who's there?"

"Don't be afraid," came an almost languid whisper. And then, though still soft, the voice became a little more lively: "How can you stand it being so silent in here, Murra? Don't you want some music or something? It's a wonder if you're not crazy from the overdose of solemnity."

There it was, that voice again. She turned her head toward the speaker and took in a deep breath. The scent was just as familiar as the voice was, but she could not place it. "The medical staff thinks that the silence will help me recover." She shook her head, pulling to sit herself up on the bed a bit, attempting to get closer to figuring it who this man was. "I think they are just full of shit..."

When she moved, the light hold on her arm released, the bleeding from the tug of the nutrient tube stopped. "I agree," said the man who, by the nearness of his voice, was standing right at her bed side--though now it sounded as if he was turned away from her slightly. "I checked into their qualifications--they're apparently well thought of. It's my theory that they're both too arrogant to admit when their chosen procedures don't work, and too frightened at being so close to the border to think with real clarity. So I'm going to try something different, with your permission."

It was nagging at her, pulling her mind into a state of puzzlement. She knew this man, she had spoken with him before, the sound of his voice...the shadowy movements that could be taken as mannerisms. She had definitely talked to him before. "...What would you like to try?"

He was watching her face as it slowly came back to life, energized perhaps more by the little puzzle than by the conversation. That was a good sign. It suggested that she had not 'given up' as he'd been told she had due to the continual failure of her doctors' attempts. It suggested that she was bored, and probably depressed, and he knew that those things could kill a person more completely than a slug, sometimes. Those things helped you to kill yourself.

"I'm going to supply your body with the means to repair itself, with materials from itself. Provide the groundwork for it to regain its own strength, so that, if and when I might need to work more acutely, you won't kick off before I'm finished. ... Basically, I'm going to give you the raw energy, and you're going to heal yourself."

Part of her attention had now gone into the prospect of being allowed to heal herself. These doctors with their fancy medical knowledge, and the ever present machines...they always pushed the synthetic, causing harm in other areas while healing that which stood at the forefront. This, what this man was offering to her, was something far more promising. But, he was still unknown to her mind, still unrecognized through the haze and passage of time. "Before I agree to this, who sent you here?" She had her reasons for asking, it would be another area to start from. Just another lead to follow mentally in order to reach the object and completion of this puzzle.

"Cato mentioned that, even in your present condition, you might kick the ass of any stranger who came around, poking and prodding and playing games like... not telling you who they are. I could see the logic in that."

She nodded slowly, feeling a bit of an incredulous smile spreading to her lips. "Cato was correct in that mentioning. But, as your voice is familiar to me, I would be far more lenient then to actually 'kick' your ass..."

The man chuckled. "I throw myself upon your mercy, Master Tekal. But we might as well be strangers, I think. We've only spoken twice. Once on Tatooine, and once on Drall. I acquired one of your lightsabers on Naboo, but you'd already vacated the area."

Once on Tatooine, and then on Drall? Well, that could have been a number of people, in any given order among the two planets. But, there was only one person who's voice had sounded even remotely like the one she was hearing now. "Sadhric?!" Disbelief was most prominent within her voice. There were no walls to put her emotions behind, she was normal here on Myrkr, not the Force wielding Jedi Master who had gotten into trouble more times then she could have counted.

The silence from his direction suggested that he'd gone very still. Inhumanly still. But softly, he said, "This is your chance to refuse my help."

There were certainly holes that had to be filled in. The last she had heard of him, Sadhric had been imprisoned by Phobos. But, those were stories to be shared at another time, if at all. She took in a deep breath, feeling the constriction in her chest. Those damn doctors..."Sadhric, you came here to help me. Caedmon would not have sent you here unless he trusted you to do whatever you could for me. I wont turn you away."

"Good." He drew in a quiet breath. "I don't know how long this might take. I've never done this before. But what I have in mind should amount to exactly what I said before: Bodies know innately what they are supposed to be. They recognize when they are not what they are meant to be. They are exhaustively programmed machines adept at self-repair. If we give them what they need, they will use it more efficiently than physicians ever could. In your case, I'm going to have to undo some of the healing that's already been done, particularly in your bones, but it won't be in as crude a sense as breaking and setting. And, Force or no Force, the less you're afraid of what's happening, the smoother it will go, so when you have questions, ask them... This could take anywhere from a month to two years, so you'll have plenty of time for them."

She nodded to his words, settling herself back against the bed in a far more comfortable position. It all sounded promising enough, this was what she had been looking for. The alternative to conventional medicine always seemed far more radical in words, then it did when put into its practical uses. "I trust my body to your hands, Sadhric...no matter how long it will take."

If he reacted to that kind of faith, it wasn't audible. "We'll start as soon as I've got everything prepared. Until then... What would you like to listen to?"

[Charlotte]

If Sadhric had not brought droids with him, the preparations would have taken much longer than they did, because they involved transporting and converting parts of his own ship into an airtight safe-room for Murra, and a bed for her that more closely resembled a bathtub than a pallet. Warm fluid flowed through it, constantly filtered and recycled, and the fluid was not water, but something nutrient-rich and easily absorbed. Less painful, no doubt, for a broken body to float in liquid warmth than for it to lie with the uneven tug of gravity against joints and breaks.

Explanations had been straightforward and unflinching: In carefully isolated stages, Sadhric was going to literally let Murra's body digest and recreate itself--like the mythical bird devoured in flame before rising again. 'Carefully isolated' meant that no two bits of bone would be dissolved at the same time, at first, until it was proved that Murra's body could rebuild without prompting from Sadhric.

In a very real sense, it was what happened when fetal cells took materials from a mother and used them to copy (more or less) structures in the mother's body. It meant that that which was bone in Murra now might become muscle in a month, and vice versa, as the materials were dissolved and put to use according to the guidance of the procedure.

Evidently, by the time they were ready to begin, Sadhric had banished Murra's other doctors, so that the only ones at work were him and his droids.


The explanations to her questions, when they were posed, were like the warm liquid which encompassed her form. It was relaxing to know that there were those in the galaxy who still believed in the natural order of the body, and when coupled with the mind, such beliefs often times had a greater success rate then those of a more conventional method.

This, what Sadhric was doing to help Murra, put her at a far greater rest then anything the doctors would have ever tried to do for her. They did their job well enough, but their knowledge was limited far within the bounds of their text book cases and scenarios.

"Slowly at first," Sadhric had said softly, "... to gauge how well your body handles this. More swiftly over time, perhaps, if things go well by my assessment, and you wish it. There's no real need to rush this."

He had been there during the first test, though he'd told her that later on he might not always be present, that there was business he might be forced to attend to. He had never gotten very specific about those things, either because they weren't important or because they were too important.



What could have taken years took only months. This treatment was exactly what her form had needed. But, it had been hell. The transformation itself was nothing, she could deal with the healing, and shifting, within her body. Her mental state had increased as well, being pulled from its stupor as the prospect of being able to move on her own again became more real of a thought. What was difficult for her, though, was being on Myrkr, living without the Force. She had to get used to seeing with her other senses, relying on tactile impressions to re-learn the world around her. It became easier with everyday, those first steps always being the hardest. Sadhric was there through some of it, disappearing for long stretches here and there to go tend to his own affairs.

She relaxed in those times, finding comfort in the music he had left behind for her, as well as in the solitude which she had become fond of as a Jedi Master. These were times of meditation, even though there was no Force to reach out to, that did not mean it was not there. She used the opportunities to remind herself of this, keeping the spirit of her Jedi flame alive through the procedure.

The Mechanic had left her not only music, but droids with access to vast libraries of information. He had not, as it might have stood out, left her with the means necessary to get current newsfeeds off the HoloNet, and he had omitted that without explanation. Had it slipped his mind, simply not occurring to him that she might want such a thing?

How likely was that?

The truth of the matter was that Sadhric considered mental and emotional healing with the same fastidious attention to detail that he used in her physical repair, and it seemed that he believed that knowing at any time what was going on with the war would have caused anxiety to the Jedi, and made her impatient. So there had been none of that. But now that the long healing was nearing a state of completion that would allow Murra to work back up to being active, when Sadhric arrived after being absent for two weeks, the first words out of his mouth were: "I thought you might like to watch the holos soon. ... And to do that, we're going to have to do some work on your eyes."

She had welcomed him back with a warm smile. She had been looking forward to his return, to see how her progress faired in the eyes of her caretaker. It would have seemed that she did well, as he was ready to move onto something else: her sight.

It was an exciting prospect, to be able to look at the world and to actually see as she had done before. This whole shadows and light thing was getting old. There was no color, only the light and dark where light was absent and present. She proved herself eager to get started, wanting to not only see, but to become caught up with current events. "What would you like me to do?"

He laughed a little. "Just let yourself sleep when you start to drift off. And don't panic when you wake up; there will be a thin coating on your face keeping your eyelids closed. You won't have to tolerate that for long, I promise...."

She nodded, her trust in his wisdom having increased through the procedure. "Alright." She wasn't honestly looking forward to more rest, but in the way of things...she had to keep herself calm and patient for just a little while longer. It would be soon enough that her eyesight would return.

Something that he'd put into the nutrients being absorbed by her body hastened sleep, bringing it on softly but inexorably like a wave.


... And when next he was there, who knows how much later, he was carefully and gently washing away a coating that might have simply felt like another thin, waxy layer of skin. And then he'd stepped back, and gone silent.

Up to Murra to open her eyes in her own time. Up to Murra to assess success or failure. Up to Murra to respond after so long without sight....

She waited for him to step back, letting go of a deep breath before opening her eyes. It was time to see if this was a success or not. Slowly, with great measure, Murra turned her head to the room around her, focusing her sight on where she had heard Sadhric standing. She opened her eyes to look at him, blinking a few times to bring his form into faint focus. She could see, but the lines were blurry. There was color, but it wasn't as vibrant. It might have been due to the lighting, or it might have been that this was how her sight was from birth.

"It's good to see you again Sadhric."

He looked very much the same as he had when she'd met him before. Perhaps a bit more pale, but just as tall and just as lean, dressed in black that made him look far too serious, and which gave him an appearance of coldness that contrasted sharply with how he'd sounded whenever he'd dealt with her.

Which impression was the truth?

Difficult to say.

He did smile a little in response to her, though, crookedly. He was wearing his Lenses, but they were only faintly tinted; his dark eyes were on her face, attentive and curious. "Is there any pain?" he whispered.

She shook her head slowly, wide eyes slowly receding to what would be normal for any seeing person. "None at all. The colors are a bit faded, and the lines a bit blurry, but I suspect that has nothing to do with the proceedure..." Her words were thoughtful, contemplative even. He was a changed man, something about him had taken a turn. Things like that happened often within a galaxy of deceit.

"We'll give you some recovery time," he told her, "and then, if you like, I'll see what can be done about perfecting your sight." There was a long pause as he looked her over, checked some things, and then went still again. "How do you feel?"

"I feel better then I have in...hm...how long has it been since the galaxy last saw me?" she spoke with a slight smirk. She had lost track of the days since Ord Mantel, but that was not a surprise. She had not been in touch with anyone beyond Sadhric and her medical watchdogs.

There had been physical therapy of varying kinds and degrees from day one, not only preventing atrophy but building strength. Even now, Murra could probably walk on her own; balance was a different issue, but even that had been addressed in little ways to minimize what she'd have to overcome when she truly took over her own routine again.

"A while," Sadhric chuckled. "I have a holoprojector set up for you that should suit your needs. But you're going to have to walk to reach it... so I brought you some things. You take your time, and I'll meet you down the hall." He gestured to a table that she could reach if she wanted to. On it were folds of cloth--clothing--and atop those was her lightsaber. With a little bow, The Mechanic left her to explore what she could do, and how she would have to go about doing it, in her own time.

A while...what a nondescript answer. She had been hoping to gain an understanding of just how long this had taken her. It felt like years since she had last stood on her own, let alone spoken to anyone she had known before this. Had they forgotten her, or were they worried as to whether she was alright or not? Such concerns would all be met, but first she had to turn her attention and focus to lifting herself from the tub-like apparatus and onto her feet.

The table was not all that far away from where she was, but it would still take a considerable amount of effort to train her body into a state of balance where it could be reached with minimum effort. That, alone, was the trick. It would take more then minimum effort. He had left her to it, and with a deep inhale and a slow release of that breath, Murra placed her hands on the sides of the tub and pushed upward, focusing her mind on one movement at a time. That is how it always began, slow and easy movements, breathing into the areas where trouble seemed to arise. She took slow and deliberate actions, pacing herself until she was standing on her feet, the nutrient liquid cooling her skin. First one step, and then the next, she reminded herself, placing one foot on the floor, using the mouth of the tub as a balancing point. It would have taken her a bit of time, far longer then she would have liked. But, will would eventually win out over the lack of balance and strength, and eventually she would have reached the table, gotten herself dressed and shuffled toward the door and out into the hallway.


He hadn't actually left her, but he had a sense that she would get more benefit from thinking that she had to solve problems herself, or overcome obstacles through her own willpower and ingenuity. It was a belief that, accurate or not, he could respect. That was why he did not always answer her questions simply or easily, and why sometimes it seemed he took the long way around with her, or teased her. Murra, he thought, would come through it all much more Murra if she worked out most things for herself. So he was, in fact, waiting for her when she reached the hall, and he offered her an arm for support only when she met him, ready to move at her pace, and go where she wanted to go.

She reached out uneasily for him, loosing her grip on the doorframe only when she was certain that her balance could be compensated for by leaning against his form. She didn't mind the whole problem solving thing. She had never been anyone to do anything the easy way, anyway. This was just another trial for her, another way of overcoming her own obstacles. She welcomed his challenges and rose to meet them, even if she did fail sometimes. But those failures were learned from, and she approached the same obstacle from a different point of view when it next arose.

He asked her the usual things you might ask in a situation like that: Was there dizziness? Did she notice any odd sensation--or lack of sensation? Was her blurred eyesight giving her a headache? And so on. Solicitous and attentive, it wasn't until they'd reached the room at the far end, of this structure's upper level that Sadhric asked, "How long are you willing to give yourself, now, before you get antsy and depart?"

There was nothing special about the room itself: there were chairs, tables, some food put out for her to pick at if she chose, and the holoprojector, as promised, with a console so that she could access and alter at will.

She had answered all of his questions with positive answers. She was doing alright, her eyesight was not causing her any problems, and beyond having to get used to being up and about again, there was no discomfort at all were walking was concerned.

But, to answer his question about her departure, her expression became grim and she shook her head slightly, eyeing the food that had been set out for her. "I won't rush things, Sadhric, but somehow I get the feeling that I would want to once I start viewing the holos..."

This time, he did speak directly: "Yes," he said plainly, "you will."

She nodded, going into mental preparation mode. She moved forward, going slowly enough so that Sadhric would be able to glean her actions before she took them. She would not make it across the room without him for balance, and support. She understood this and showed no signs of 'jumping the gun'.

Carefully, he helped her to sit in the chair that would allow her to reach almost anything she might want to at present, and he stood a little to one side thoughtfully. "It's been two months since I came to you... and I'm unclear on how long you were injured before that." He had never asked her what had happened to her--not really--though knowing him he was probably keenly aware of the gap in his knowledge.

She nodded, settling herself comfortably into the chair. "Two months..." her words were dark, her chin dropping as she did some math within her head. "Then it would be a little over four or five since that battle..." Her math was imperfect, but it really didn't matter. A chunk of time was missing from her life, the events of the galaxy which had passed were unknown and still had to be caught up on, no matter how long it had been. She took in another deep breath and nodded again, reaching for something to eat. "Let's get started then..."