~~~
"Wake up.." The Echani man's voice punctured through the veil of Na'Varro's slumber. He felt a soft, gentle hand touch and then shake his shoulder, and opened his eyes to find a room full of dim light. He lay on a large bed, the sheets white as snow ... apparently made from the same cloth as his new sleeping apparel. Sitting up, he recognised the old Echani man with his eyes now, as he stood at the doorway with amused eyes. He too wore the monotonous white that dominated this icy keep. He was flanked by two young Echani females, both stone-faced and seemingly with hearts of ice. Na'Varro's head turned to the left and found the source of the hand that still lay softly on his shoulder. Partial recognition flooded his memory bank immediately, signified by a rush of butterflies fluttering through his gut. A young Echani woman, this one with kind eyes and perceptibly sad. It was
her. The bearded man couldn't remember why he knew her, or how, or who she was exactly. But there was the feeling of knowing there. Had she been the one who had helped his old Master all those centuries ago? Had she been his salvation?
"I hope your slumber was to your satisfaction, honoured guest." The elder cut through Na'Varro's wandering thoughts, bringing him back to the present. His eyebrows rose slightly. A strange use of Basic, evidence of a man who had not been with the outside galaxy for some time.
"Ah ... it was, thank you." Na'Varro's face remained still, as it had been trained, but his inner reaction was sheer shock. That was not his voice.
That is not my voice! The voice was familiar, but it was not his ... too familiar.
"We bring breakfast." With a gesture, the Echani females filed through the doorway carrying silver platters laden with food from the four corners of the galaxy.
Lavish. Na'Varro wondered how all of these beautiful things had found their way to Hoth, a dead world at the brink of the Unknown Regions.
"And hope it is to your liking. Your stay here will be ... long, and it is our hope that you will be comfortable for its duration."
Long stay? No chance. Na'Varro grimaced. Hoth wasn't exactly the holiday destination of a lifetime. So he weighed things up. He was, by all accounts, a very powerful individual. Governments had tried to hold him and failed. There was nothing stopping him from walking out the front door. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the old Echani man, knowing that a simple motion would fling him like a rag doll against the wall, bones breaking and sinew twisting, and - the Dark Side wasn't there. Where once there had been something great and terrible, there was a void in Na'Varro's mind so massive that he almost lost control completely. It was his drug, the very thing he relied upon for everything. And it was gone. The bearded man felt a sickness rushing through him, tears of desperation and complete and furious emptiness pouring from his eyes. He curled up on the bed, an arm stretched out in agony as if he was trying to recapture his soul. At the sight of it, Na'Varro's confusion compounded.
That's not my arm. He looked around in desperation, catching his reflection in one of the silver platters. A huge mop of blood red hair, clean shaven with eyes as red as fire.
That's not my face!
"You will not find the Force here, and nor will you find it again. Relax, Master Reaver ... you are quite secure here. And here you will remain, until your purpose is achieved."
The old Echani turned and left, his white-haired entourage following out the door that slid closed and locked behind him. He left a man confused, broken, and in terrible mental pain, on the edge of sanity and his animal side, almost devoid completely of reason.
~~~
Na'Varro awoke screaming. It took a matter of seconds to re-orientate himself; he was used to nightmares, to him they were the constant companion of sleep. But re-orientate himself he did. He was in the same room as in his dream, yet everything was darker, older, shabbier. There was no bed, not even a mattress, just a cold hard floor and icy walls. For the moment, he was alone. Na'Varro did not try to seize the Force yet. Truth be told, he was terrified that it would not be there, and he would be truly alone. The Dark Side had ebbed inside of him for the past six years. He was no longer as fearsome as he once was, and the thought that the rest of it could be taken from him seemed a real, terrifying possibility. The bearded man was scared. For the first time in a long time, he was feeling something ... and it was fear. Terrible fear, and he was unsure of whether he had the strength to fight anymore.
"It's not there." The Force ghost had reappeared during the meandering of his mind. He couldn't see the expression its face held, but on the whole it appeared smug. A disgusting disposition, if there ever was one.
"Excuse me?" Na'Varro managed.
"The Force, it's not there, so don't bother trying." The ghost continued, its disposition vastly changed from the memory or dream that Na'Varro had just experienced.
"The last guy who tried after I put him in here went insane for two whole weeks. He was useless until he calmed down. Two weeks. Sure, not much time when you've been here for EIGHT HUNDRED FETHING YEARS ... but still, after that long a wait, you tend to get a little impatient."
"Righto."
"Hmm, quite. Now," the ghost drummed his "fingers" against the doorway.
"I require to keep you here for as long as it takes-"
"As long as what takes?" Na'Varro inquired.
"None of your business! Anyway, we've established that you can't access the Force and your mentalism game sucks. This door locks, and it's the only way out. I can put you to sleep at will ... what I'm trying to say is, you have to stay here. Your cause is hopeless. Your only way out is to give me what I seek. But you don't know what to give, you can't know! So this is probably going to be a lengthy process.." The ghost stopped as if disgusted with himself.
"I don't even need to explain myself to you, really. I guess I've just been a little bit lonely. Eight centuries is a loooong time. Anyway, plenty of time to chat. Enjoy your sleep."
The ghost vanished into thin air, and Na'Varro was out like a light before he had even finished evaporating. Blackness was his companion once more, as were the memories that came with it.
