“Binda. I hear you but I can’t see.” Hands grasped at deep gray clouds in a black sky. Path streamed the name in her mind, calling, repeating, chanting, “Binda, Binda…Binda.”
“Report” the technician mumbled. The medical unit purred while transmitting the data on patient 0032Path to the technician’s data pad. The soft female voice, in a sickly sweet tone announced, “Patient Path. All bodily systems are functioning at 100%. No change since last data stream.” The technician replied, “Transmission received. Report end.” He then shuffled to the table near the patient’s shoulder. Path’s personal com unit blinked with incoming messages. A bottle of Talusian water, tied with a sash of fine gauze remained unopened. He picked up a boars bristle hairbrush and drew long strokes through her dark hair. “Why does she sleep?” He wondered. An officer in the Imperial Order, outstanding record of achievements for the Empire and personal accomplishments as well. He touched her forehead with his fingertips, squinted his eyes and whispered, “Are you there?”
The metallic clink of metal made the technician pull away quickly. He turned to face the attending Physician. Hands fumbled with the brush, barely catching it as the handle slipped from his grasp. He placed the brush back on the table. “No change Sir.” He passed the data pad to the Doctor, straightened his tunic and waited, eyes darting from the floor to the patient.
The Doctor nodded. He looked to the glass ceiling and sighed. “122 turns. A long sleep indeed.” The room was bright with a golden glow from Tatooine’s twin suns. Walls reflected the lustrous light to every curving arch and all within. Path’s fair skin radiated a glow of health, yet she showed no signs of waking. The Doctor cleared his throat and declared, “The war is escalating. The talents of a healer such as our sleeper here will be greatly needed.” The Doctor turned to Path, “I can’t understand the trauma’s these healers of the soul endure. This is not the first to choose to sleep.” He handed the data pad back to the slouching technician, turned and left the room. The technician, in a voice so hushed it was more thought than whisper, leaned to the bed and breathed, “Wake for the right reason’s Miss Path. Not for the Empire, for yourself, when you are ready.” With that he quietly exited the room.
“Reasons. What reasons?” Path was confused. She concentrated her mind on her body. No wounds. No scars. No light. All senses were stilled. Thoughts raced and trailed Path’s mind in an ever-changing course of direction. The Empire, Azaziel, a ring, cackling laughter, a life before and one name she sought a face for…Binda. Path called out again. She felt a presence far in the darkness. One of comfort and understanding. She reached for that distant light only to be pulled away by yet another snatching thread of thought. Run, run. Path chased the prodding threads of thought, coming close to grasping only to be distracted by one more demanding. On she ran. Thought to thought, gray to black always hoping for one steady light to guide her.
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