The Moment of Truth

by Jude Watson

  They were led to a gray building with no sign outside. When they were

  ushered inside, Anakin's nose twitched. It smelled like chemicals. So the

  rumors could be true. The prisoners exchanged uneasy glances.

  They were prodded along the hallway and pushed into a bare white room.

  There a holoscreen took up an entire wall. An image of a human male dressed

  in a med coat appeared on the screen. He smiled gently.

  "Do not fear. You will not be harmed. On the contrary, you are about

  to enjoy the experience for which we have chosen you. Welcome to the Zone

  of Self-Containment. A doctor will be with you shortly to explain. In the

  meantime, relax."

  "Relax," one of the prisoners snorted. "Good advice, med-head."

  The holo image blinked off.

  "What did he say?" another one of the imprisoned soldiers asked. "The

  Zone of Self-Containment? What are they going to do to us?" He pressed his

  fingers to his forehead. "I feel strange."

  Anakin, too, felt light-headed. He suddenly realized why the

  information had been given to them by a holo image instead of a real

  person.

  "The room is filled with some kind of gas. They've drugged us," he

  said as his vision blurred. He felt his knees turn to water. One of the

  prisoners slumped to the floor.

  Anakin felt himself slipping downward. He fought the sensation of the

  gas. The others slipped into unconsciousness. He held himself in readiness.

  He tried to move his legs and found that they were too heavy.

  He was the only one conscious when the technicians entered the room in

  masks. He saw, but he could not move a finger. The technicians began to

  load the other prisoners onto repulsorlift stretchers.

  "Look at this one, he's still awake," one of the technicians said,

  drawing closer to Anakin. "Never seen that before."

  "He's not too happy about being here, either," another said.

  One of them leaned closer to Anakin. "Don't fight it, friend. We just

  want some cooperation in the beginning. I guarantee you'll like your stay

  here."

  Using every ounce of his will and strength, Anakin grabbed the

  technician by the collar and brought his face even closer. "Don't... bet...

  on it."

  The technician yelped and struggled to free himself. "Help! For

  galaxy's sake!"

  The other two rushed over. Anakin could not fight the three of them.

  He was thrown onto the stretcher and strapped down. He dipped in and out of

  consciousness as the stretcher was powered down the hall. A door opened.

  The light hurt his eyes.

  They began to undress him. My lightsaber, Anakin thought. The disk. He

  had retained his utility belt and concealed the disk inside a hidden slit.

  He had concealed his lightsaber by lodging it against his body underneath

  the tunic, strapping the belt tight against the hilt.

  He could not summon the Force enough to distract the technicians from

  finding it. He was helpless. Only luck could save him from discovery. The

  belt was unstrapped and hit the tiled floor with a soft thud. His tunic

  followed. The technician scooped up the bundle and tossed it in a storage

  box with clothes from the other prisoners.

  Anakin shut his eyes against the harsh light. He felt himself being

  lifted and slipped into water. He tried to fight, afraid he would drown.

  "Relax, friend," the technician said. "It's just a bath."

  The water was warm. He slid against the side. He was strapped in so

  that his head wouldn't slip beneath the surface. Anakin's mind drifted as

  though he were floating off on a deep, dark lake.

  He must have slept. When he woke, he was dry and was wearing a fresh

  tunic, this one a soft material, in dark blue. He was lying on a sleep

  couch. The sleep had refreshed him. He felt relaxed and energized. He

  stretched, marveling at how fluid his limbs felt. The paralyzing drug

  effects had worn off, but strangely, had left him feeling limber.

  He recognized the technician who handed him a pillow. "Feel better?

  Told you so. Almost time for the evening meal."

  Anakin shook his head.

  "They all refuse at first," the med technician said. "Don't worry, the

  food isn't drugged. We all eat together, workers and patients."

  Anakin shrugged. Maybe the man was telling the truth. Maybe not.

  Oddly, Anakin didn't care. It was as though cool water had run through his

  veins, calming every impulse, every desire.

  He walked to the dining hall. Tables were set up, and other patients

  and med workers were eating. There was a long table with platters heaped

  with fruits and vegetables, pastries and meats. Anakin saw that everyone

  ate from the same plates, so he took some food and ate it.

  He chewed, wondering what would come next. He supposed something would

  happen soon. When it did, he would react.

  The need to help Typha-Dor seemed so distant now. Someone else would

  help the planet. There was always someone else to do something, if you

  waited. He would just pass the time here and see what the Vanqors were up

  to. That could be valuable to the Typha-Dor, too. He needn't worry about

  the invasion right now.

  He ate and followed some other prisoners out into the courtyard.

  Warming lights had been set up, and the air was comfortable. Flowers grew,

  and large, leafy trees. Anakin found a bench and sat. He felt something he

  had not felt in a long, long time, not since he was a little boy nestled in

  his mother's embrace: peace.

  I'll fight it soon. When I need to escape, I will. But right now...

  right now, would it be so wrong to enjoy it?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Obi-Wan waited until the starships were out of sight. He couldn't risk

  a long transmission to the Temple. But he would have to risk a distress

  call. The calls would be coded and scrambled, and he would have to hope it

  could reach the Temple.

  They could lock on his position and send help. It would take almost

  two days to arrive, but he had to risk it.

  The tracking device tucked in Anakin's tunic beeped a steady signal.

  Obi-Wan trudged back to the ship. He climbed through the hole and went to

  the rear cargo hold. He had to cut through the crunched door with his

  lightsaber. He remembered that they had loaded one swoop aboard. They had

  to leave the rest behind because Anakin needed to lighten the ship's load

  as much as possible.

  The swoop was dented from slamming back and forth between the cargo

  hold's walls, but it still worked. Anakin had made sure of that before they

  left the outpost. Now he had transportation. Obi-Wan only hoped that Anakin

  was close enough to get to on a swoop. It was small, built for short

  distances, and it didn't hold much fuel.

  He climbed aboard and took off. The tracking device led him over the

  high plateaus and desert lands surrounding the Tomo Craters. He looked down

  as he sped over the terrain, glad he wasn't on foot. The plateaus were high

  and steep, and trails led to dead ends and switchbacks. It would have taken

  days to traverse the distance. Obi-Wan stayed as close to the ground as he

  dared, trying to evade scanners and surveillanc
e from above. The tracking

  device led him on as the sun slid lower in the sky.

  The fuel read EMPTY and the engine began to sputter. By Obi-Wan's

  reckoning he was still at least twenty kilometers from Anakin. He had no

  choice. He had to land.

  He pulled the swoop into a cave, entering the coordinates on his

  datapad. He might need it later, if he could find some fuel. He started to

  walk.

  It was hard going. Obi-Wan hiked up and down steep slopes of thin rock

  shale that occasionally broke into dangerous rockslides. At last he stopped

  to rest when the source of the tracking device's transmission was in sight.

  Obi-Wan studied the camp through his electrobinoculars. The good news

  was that the perimeter security wasn't heavy, most likely because the camp

  relied on its inaccessibility.

  He had reached the heart of the Tomo Craters. A careful survey of the

  ground made Obi-Wan conclude that camp security was correct not to worry

  about escaping prisoners. If Obi-Wan could manage to scramble up and down

  cliffs and hike through canyons without disturbing a nest of gundarks or

  getting attacked by various other horrifying creatures, he might make it to

  the outskirts of the camp. Then he would have to scale a sheer rock wall

  two hundred meters high. He would be vulnerable with every centimeter he

  traveled. It would be better to go in by air.

  Of course, he didn't have a transport. That could be a problem.

  He sat on a high peak, underneath an outcropping of rocks. He watched

  the camp operations for the rest of the waning evening. Transports flew in

  and out in a regular pattern, ferrying supplies and possibly carrying

  troops back and forth. Obi-Wan guessed that the camp must also be a base of

  some sort.

  He could wait for a few days to see if his message had reached the

  Temple. But what if it hadn't?

  Rescue was his first priority. He had to get that disk to Typha-Dor.

  And if Anakin didn't have the disk, what would you do? If Shalini had

  given it to you, would you take it to Typha-Dor and abandon him?

  The answer should have been easy. As a Jedi, his commitment was to the

  galaxy. He would have had to go to Typha-Dor without Anakin. Would he have

  attempted a rescue anyway, knowing that Anakin would be waiting for him? He

  was glad he didn't have to make that choice.

  The flight pattern of the ships was always the same. They dipped low

  as they came in, then landed close to the edge of the plateau, where a

  short landing pad was surrounded by energy fencing.

  Obi-Wan surveyed the area carefully. He thought back on the beginning

  of the mission, when he'd been brooding about how careful he had become,

  how much he now weighed risks and thought things through.

  Well, he had thought things through, and he had decided that this plan

  was crazy. He could get pummeled by rocks. He could crash into a crater

  hundreds of meters below. He could be spotted and blasted into thin air.

  All of these scenarios were likely. It was a risky plan. It bordered

  on stupid.

  Which meant that perhaps he wasn't so careful after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Once, Anakin and Obi-Wan had taken a few weeks to travel through the

  grasslands of the planet Belazura, strictly for pleasure. Obi-Wan

  considered the planet to be among the most beautiful in the galaxy, and he

  wanted to show it to Anakin. Anakin remembered Obi-Wan telling him that

  even the life of the Jedi must include time to reflect among beautiful

  surroundings. Anakin's only instructions during the trip were to enjoy

  himself. He had.

  He had seen fields of grasses that ranged from light sunny yellows to

  deep greens. He had seen golden fields dotted with deep red flowers. Blue

  skies had surrounded them like a halo of light. He remembered that he was

  never hot, and never cold. That the breeze against his skin had felt as

  soft as his mother's touch.

  It had been a peaceful time he had returned to again and again in his

  daydreams. And now he was experiencing it once more.

  To Anakin's surprise, he underwent no treatments. He was not drugged

  again. He was not treated like a prisoner. His room was spare, with just a

  sleep couch and table, but he had access to a sunny area inside and the

  courtyard outside. Anakin found that he wanted nothing more than to sit

  there, his face tilted to the warming lights, watching the shadow patterns

  of the leaves on the wall. He found that it was easy to contemplate the

  different greens of the leaves for hours. Yet it was not the mindlessness

  of the meditation he had been taught. He did not leave his body. He did not

  leave his cares. He could see them as though they were off at a distance.

  They had nothing to do with him. He knew that everything would work out as

  it should.

  He was not sure how much time had passed. Maybe no more than a day or

  two. Anakin occasionally thought about escaping. The thought would drift

  across his mind like a warm breeze, and then disappear.

  One afternoon two med technicians came into the garden and stood

  before him. "Someone would like to see you, Prisoner 42601."

  Anakin rose and followed them. He felt a slight curiosity. They walked

  on either side of him, not touching him or restraining him in any way.

  There was no need to.

  Anakin was led into an office. The technicians left, shutting the door

  quietly behind them. Unlike the rest of the complex, which was comfortable

  but spare, this office was full of color and luxury. A thick, patterned

  carpet was on the floor and septsilk curtains in deep blue hung at the

  windows. He thought he could smell a pleasant perfume. He sat down in a

  soft chair and leaned back against a rose-colored pillow.

  A human woman walked into the room. Her blond hair was threaded with

  silver and coiled at the nape of her neck. She was older, he sensed, but he

  could not tell by her face, which was unlined and smooth. Her eyes were

  penetrating but warm.

  Instead of sitting behind the desk, she perched on the edge of it.

  "Thank you for coming."

  Anakin nodded. He could hear a ghost in his head, a murmur of the

  person he had been. That person would have said, Did I have a choice? But

  now he did not feel like challenging this person, this woman with the

  pretty hair and the warm smile.

  "I asked to see you," she said. "I am the doctor who invented the Zone

  of Self-Containment. You have seen that we haven't lied to you. Your

  experience is about pleasure, not pain. I have a theory that if you are

  surrounded by pleasant things and no worries, your mind will elevate to

  that level. Are you happy here?"

  Anakin considered the question. Happy? Suddenly he felt confused. What

  did the word mean? Had he ever been happy? He remembered a flash of a young

  boy, running home through narrow streets. He remembered laughing with his

  friend Tru Veld, a fellow Padawan who he had not seen in a year. He could

  locate the memory, but not the feeling.

  For some reason, his confusion made her smile. "Wrong question. Let me

  rephrase. Are you content?" That he coul
d answer. "Yes."

  "Good. That is our goal. Now. The reason I asked for you is that the

  technicians tell me that you were able to fight the paralyzing agent we

  used when you first arrived. I should explain that the agent is used only

  to allay any anxiety you might feel. Naturally as prisoners of war you

  would suspect that something terrible might happen to you. The agent was

  only used to make the experience more comfortable for you. You needed to be

  bathed and dressed, and the paralyzer allowed us to do that without you or

  the technicians getting hurt. It was for everyone's benefit, you see."

  That seemed reasonable, but Anakin said nothing. Although he was

  perfectly content to talk to this doctor, and was enjoying this wonderful

  peace he felt, being here had not completely erased the memory of being a

  Jedi. He did not necessarily trust what this doctor had to say.

  "It is impossible to resist that paralyzing gas, yet you assaulted a

  technician."

  "I grabbed his collar," Anakin corrected pleasantly. "And you spoke to

  him."

  "It seemed appropriate under the circumstances."

  She nodded in appreciation. "I see that though you are in the zone,

  you still have your wits about you."

  "I don't like to abandon them completely, no," Anakin offered.

  She studied him now. Anakin could feel sunlight touch his face. His

  skin warmed, and he wanted to close his eyes to enjoy the sensation, but he