Episode II - Full Stop - Part 5

Lieutenant Bondi, followed by Booker and Cord, moved quickly down the corridor. The Imperial Marines checked each door, and found a mess hall, kitchen, barracks, and medical center, all of which seemed sterile and unused.

“What is all this for?” asked Booker. “Droids don’t sleep.”

“I imagine it was for maintenance personnel or visiting supervisors,” said Bondi. “Looks like they haven’t had visitors in a long while, though.”

The three men continued to the end of the hallway. As they approached the last door, it slid open to reveal an elevator. The men halted on instinct, and raised their weapons. Nothing emerged to greet them, but Bondi couldn’t help thinking of the open door as a gaping maw, the elevator shaft a throat.

“Sims, you copy?” Bondi tried to raise the other team on the communications. His own electronics had rebooted from the effects of the droid-popper EMP mine.

“I read you, Lietenant Bondi,” came back Sims’ voice, scratchy in the helmet speakers.

“We found an elevator, which we hope will take us to the command center. What’ve you guys got?”

“We found the hangar, as well as the droid-weapon storage and repair facility. We encountered a little resistance, but no losses on our part. The hangar itself was empty. If there were any ships here, they bugged out a long time ago. This place is a shell.”

“Understood,” said the Lieutenant. “Hold your position. We’re going down. Bondi out.”

Bondi, Booker and Cord entered the elevator. Before anyone could push a button, the door closed behind them and the box began to descend.

 “Did you do that?” asked Booker.

“I thought you did,” said Cord.

“Both of you, shut up,” said Bondi.

They three marines stood ready as they descended into the planetoid. Bondi couldn’t tell how fast they were moving, but he noticed the atmosphere was getting noticeably hotter, and what was at first a barely audible heartbeat-like pulsing sound became louder. At first, he thought it was made by the elevator machinery, but soon realized the noise was originating from beyond their immediate surroundings.

The elevator finally came to a stop, and the door opened to another corridor, this one much shorter, leading to a single door at the opposite end. The pulsing sound was more intense, as was the heat. Bondi felt sweat bead on his brow, and wondered what portion of it was caused by the heat, and what portion caused by his nerves.

“Let’s go,” he said, leading Booker and Cord down the small corridor. The elevator door closed behind them, and the door they faced opened, letting in even more heat. The marines stepped though into a large room. Readouts and interfaces covered a full wall to their left. Directly in front of them, a large solid blast shield was raised. The steady, rhythmic thump-thump seemed to emanate from behind it. To their right, a small alcove, with some more computer equipment. There was a medical droid, who looked up from his readouts, and then turned to approach the marines.

“Greetings. I am BX-22. Welcome. May I ask your identity?” it said as it crossed the room.

“I’m Lieutenant Bondi, assigned to the Imperial Navy Star Destroyer Absolute under Captain Sarcune. What is this place?”

“Why, this is Facility 4985, also known as Anvil Station. I am not familiar with an Imperial Navy. Has Count Dooku established an Empire from the Separatist Alliance?” asked BX-22.

“Are you in charge of this facility?” interrupted Bondi.

“Oh no. I am just an attendant for Dr. Capra.”

“And where is Dr. Capra?”

“Follow me, please,” said BX-22. He led the marines towards his workstation. “Dr. Capra has not had visitors in some time, and our conversations are…limited.” BX-22 engaged his console, and a large cylinder rose up from the floor. It glowed from within, and as it came into full view, Bondi reeled in disgust. The cylinder was a bacta-tank, and inside floated the emaciated figure of a humanoid. He was naked, but covered head-to-toe with wires and tubes that seemed to be growing out of him and dripping to the floor of the tank. A breathing apparatus covered most of his face, save the eyes, which were open, but seemed to be unusable. They stared off into the distance as if dead.

“I present Dr. Stoff Capra,” said BX-22.

“What the hell is going on here?” growled Bondi. “What is this man doing in this tank? He looks dead!”

“Oh no, he is not dead. I have made sure of that, per my orders,” said BX-22. “As for the rest, you may ask him yourself. I have initiated communications. He can hear you now.”

Bondi looked around the room. On the wall that held the door they walked in through was another door, set off near the corner. Under the large blast shield was another door, which looked as solid as the blast shield. Bondi leaned over to Cord and spoke quietly. “Get in touch with Trank. I want him down here with his explosives. If comms won’t work, go get him.”

“Yes sir,” said Cord. He moved off towards the elevator corridor. Bondi turned back to face the emaciated Dr. Capra and BX-22, standing dutifully next to the bacta tank. Bondi noticed that the tank looked especially cloudy and jaundiced. The figure inside…this Dr. Capra…did not seem rejuvenated in the least. Bondi had been inside a bacta tank before, after one particularly harrowing mission during the Clone Wars. The power of the tank to restore one’s vitality was phenomenal, and he’d emerged feeling like a new man. There were side effects, however. A feeling of euphoria, and near invincibility. There was a temptation to return to the tank, and he’d heard that elite athletes used them before competition, as well as after.

“Dr. Capra. Can you hear me? My name is Lieutenant Tem Bondi of the INSD Absolute. I need to ask you some questions.” The body floated in front of Bondi motionless. Bondi approached the tank and knocked a gloved knuckle against the curved glass. “Hello. Dr. Capra. Can you hear me?”

“It is not necessary to bang on the glass, Lieutenant Bondi,” said BX-22. Bondi ignored the droid.

“Wake up, Dr. Capra!” yelled the marine. There was no immediate answer, save for the steady pulse from whatever was behind the blast shield. Bondi turned to Booker.

“Booker, I want you to see about shutting this place down,” he whispered. Booker nodded and moved to the control console on the other side of the room.

“Did you know that Wookies have poetry?” The voice came from a speaker array set up near the bacta tank. The tone was deep, and slightly modulated. It seemed stronger than the gaunt body in the tank.

“What?” said Bondi. “Is that you, Dr. Capra?”

“It is Dr. Capra,” answered BX-22. “He is coming back to us now.”

“Back?” asked Bondi.

“They do,” said the voice, answering its own question. “Rhyme and rhythm are not lost on their species, though most cannot hear it. They don’t care. In fact, often their poetry is about that lack of concern for what those outside their own people understand about them. They have pride, but no arrogance.”

“Dr. Capra,” interrupted Bondi. “You can hear me?”

“I can….hear everything,” said Capra’s surrogate voice. “I listen, and have been listening. For a long time. I think. I always think…”

“What do you mean? What is this place? Who are you?” Bondi’s questions came rapid fire. Capra was not visibly moved.

“The faster information travels, the less bound it is to the present,” said Capra. “You know this. Or perhaps you don’t yet. Or forgot.”

Bondi turned to BX-22. “What the hell is he talking about?”

“I’m not sure, Lieutenant,” said the droid. “The longer he has been here, the stranger his speech has become. I have not been programmed to understand the psychology of such a thing.”

“How long has he been here?” asked Bondi.

“Dr. Capra has been at Anvil Station under my care for ten years.”

“In the tank? The whole time?” Bondi was incredulous.

“Yes,” said BX-22. “It was for his protection. The radiation would have killed him long ago if he were not in the tank.”

“From the power-source,” said Bondi to himself. He turned back to Dr. Capra. “Who put you in here? Did you enter yourself?”

“In here…I have always been in here. No, that’s not true. I have memories of being not in here. Or are they memories? I cannot leave, so they must be….”

“Who. Put. You. Here,” Bondi was growing frustrated. Time was of the essence, and Capra seemed to pay no heed to it.

“Dooku,” said Capra. “Count Dooku put me here. And Dr. Renfro. I put myself here. By believing in Dooku.”

“Dooku is dead,” said Bondi. “Has been long dead. Who is Dr. Renfro?”

“I know of Dooku’s fate,” said Capra. “I heard. The celebrations. The false belief that war was at an end. But I cannot end. He won’t let me die.”

“Who won’t let you die?”

“Dooku.” Said Capra plainly.

“It is true,” said BX-22. “My orders are to keep Dr. Capra alive, and I have followed my orders.”

“Who gave you those orders?” asked Bondi.

“Count Dooku himself,” said BX-22. “He was very explicit. Anvil Station cannot function unless Dr. Capra is alive. And if Anvil Station does not function, then I am obsolete.”

“And what is Anvil Station?” asked Bondi. “This facility? Why is this man necessary? He can’t even leave the tank. What does he do to keep it running?”

“The radiation from the power source is too much for a human to be exposed to for so long. He has to be protected. The bacta tank shields him from most of the radiation, and heals him from what does get through,” explained BX-22. “As for what he does…”

“I am the nexus. The fulcrum,” said Capra. “It is beautiful, the calculations. Numbers do not lie. Dooku lies. Men lie. I hear them lie. They end and begin, and pretend they are forever. I hear their end. The Mandalore. The First Order. The Republic. The Jedi. The Empire. All are out of time. All will end.”

“What are you talking about? How will the Empire end?”

“When Alderaan ended… the music was what I missed most,” said Capra. “They make such beautiful music. Listen!” Through the speakers, a song played, but it was inundated with static, popping and hissing through Capra’s voice speakers. “Through hyperspace, the old songs will remain, though never a new one. Not after Alderaan is gone…”

“Alderaan?” asked Bondi. “Alderaan is just fine.” The man in the tank was clearly delusional.

“Lieutenant, look at this,” said Booker. Bondi turned away from Dr. Capra and walked over to the marine, who was staring at a control readout.

“What am I looking at, Booker?”

Booker pointed at a continuous readout, being updated in real time. “These are hyperspace calculations, being made faster than any nav-computer I’ve ever seen. These numbers here are coordinates, and they are iterating only slightly on each cycle. Look.” Booker touched the screen, and a visual representation of the calculations came into view. “It’s a hyperspace loop, orbiting this planetoid. I think that’s our droid ship. And see here. This is the hyperspace lane we came in on, and the planetoid is orbiting that. Much slower.”

“The river flows both ways, and within are those beholden to the time on either side,” said Capra behind them. “I hear them pass. And they hear through me. And they pick and choose, based on what they know. There has not been much they know for a long time. At least, a long time to them.”

“That is true,” said BX-22. “There has not been anything for a long time. The Republic stopped using this hyperspace lane. But Anvil Station still stands, and our orders remain. So we waited…wait, patiently. Oh, but it was difficult to keep Dr. Capra alive. Concessions had to be made. Exceptions, where possible…”

“What do you mean, ‘exceptions’?” asked Bondi.

“Well, the food ran out, you see,” said BX-22. “We had to make due…”

Bondi looked at the bacta tank, and the nourishing bath’s strange color sent a chill down his spine.

“With what did you ‘make due’?”

“It might be best if I show you,” said BX-22. “Follow me, please.”