defy the tyrannous stars
Floating in a bacta tank reminded Zark of what it must have felt like in the womb or on a spacewalk. His ravaged body drifted weightless through viscous fluids. Sensory deprivation should help him meditate but every time the old Jedi closed his eyes terrible visions returned. None of it made sense for he'd never trained to interpret dreams like the seers but something about this place felt important. This was where he was meant to be.
Master Sarratt.
He sensed the familiar presence before weak eyes made out her blurry outline through a glass darkly. Master San Tekka could not speak through the breath mask pumping oxygen into his lungs, so the Jedi reached out with his thoughts instead. Scars from wounds deep enough to resist bacta treatments etched themselves like a tapestry across wrinkled flesh but there was still a twinkle in the old man's eyes that defied his advanced years.
It has been some time, long strands of hair flowed through bacta like a gorgon's mane when Zark tried to look around, What is this place?