Archives had been mostly deserted, and nobody had been close enough to notice the Sith in their midst. Since then, however, Zannah had been much more careful.
There was one last datacard to check; then she would head down to the cafeteria and return once she had sated her hunger. She popped it into the terminal and quickly scanned the contents. When she found what she was looking for, she tapped a key; a block of text from an academic paper popped up onto the screen.
AN EXAMINATION AND EXPLORATION OF A MOST DANGEROUS AND RESILIENT ORGANISM by Dr. Osaf Hamud
'In my years of study I have encountered a number of life-forms that subsist primarily through symbiotic relationships established with other species. Some of these relationships are commensalist, in which neither species is significantly affected by the presence of the other. Others are mutualistic, enabling both species to benefit from their shared existence. And still others are parasitic, in which the host organism suffers while the symbiont thrives.
Of course, to properly classify any symbiotic relationship into one of these three categories, we must first explicitly define the meaning of words such as harmful or beneficial, a task that many have regarded as…'
Zannah blinked twice to clear away the stupor settling in. The Archives' general collection included everything from explorer's journals that were as exciting to browse as any well-written piece of fiction, to academic papers so dry and boring they would test the limits of a Jedi Master's patience. Apparently the works of Dr. Osaf Hamud fell into the latter category.
For a brief instant she considered simply popping the datacard out and going in search of a meal, but then made a quick search for orbalisk instead. A dozen pages scrolled by on the viewer as it skipped to the relevant section.
'… called orbalisks by the local Nikto populace. One warrior recounted how he had been infested for nearly a full year before ridding himself of the creatures because they so disfigured him that he could not find a mate.
This returns us to our earlier dilemma of how to define harmful and beneficial. Revisiting the previous discussion, we must now include capacity to find a mate in our discussions…
Zannah pulled her eyes back up to the top of the screen.
… one warrior recounted how he had been infested for nearly a full year before ridding himself of the creatures…
In desperation she typed in a new phrase, then hit SEARCH again.
It is a fact generally assumed by most zoologists that orbalisks cannot be removed without killing the host. However, my research has revealed that an infested host can be cured, though the process is both dangerous and extremely complicated, as I will detail here.
First, the host must be in excellent health. As one might expect, the very definition of excellent and even health must be expounded upon…'
She had found it. She had found it! Zannah leapt to her feet, pumping a clenched fist in a quiet victory celebration, barely able to contain a fierce shout of triumph. And in her moment of elation, the spell concealing her true identity slipped.
Zannah quickly regained control, glancing to her left and right to see if anyone had noticed. Heart pounding, she slammed the personal datacard Master Barra had given her into the terminal to copy over the orbalisk article.
Behind her a voice said, 'Rain? What are you doing here?'
Darovit wandered along the wide aisle of the Jedi Archives' fourth hall, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of knowledge in the stacks.
He had briefly tried looking for information on the native flora and fauna of Ruusan, hoping to broaden his knowledge so he could better help those who came to him for aid. He was used to a simpler world, however, and found the technology of the Archives daunting. An analysis droid had explained how to use the search and retrieval systems to find information in the stacks, but his brisk tutorial had left Darovit even more confused than before.
Other scholars were there, and he could have approached one of them to ask for help. But as a man who valued his own privacy, he was loath to interrupt theirs. Ultimately, he had simply started to wander up and down the aisle, waiting for Johun to return.
Darovit was beginning to regret his decision to come to Corus-cant. He had let himself get swept up in the moment by the Jedi Knight, the thoughts of stopping another war with the Sith appealing to the romantic ideals that had first led him to Ruusan as a teenager. But those were the dreams of a child; he was older and wiser now.
The Jedi moved through a world that was not his own. The concerns of an entire galaxy weighed upon their shoulders; their decisions affected trillions of lives. Darovit didn't want that kind of responsibility. Surrounded by the grandeur and glory of the Archives, all he wanted was to return to his simple hut in the forest.
Unfortunately, that might no longer be an option. He was here now, and Johun seemed determined to have him speak before the Jedi Council.
To take his mind off his plight, he began to study the other scholars. They were all Jedi: Padawans and Masters, young and old, human and otherwise. He noticed an attractive young woman with long, dark hair staring intently at her viewscreen, chewing on her lip as she delved into some work of academia.
There was something familiar about her, though Darovit was sure he had never met her before. Over the past decade he hadn't met anyone except those few individuals who sought him out in his hut, and the woman certainly didn't look like she had come from the farms or villages of Ruusan.
He crept toward her, not wishing to interrupt her studies but trying to figure out if he knew her. For several minutes he watched her; she was obviously frustrated, unable to find what she was looking for in the datacards. Suddenly she leapt up, clenching her fist victoriously, and Darovit felt a familiar presence wash over him.
For the first ten years of his life, that presence had been at his side constantly. As children, they had shared a bond that went beyond being cousins-they were as close as brother and sister. And though the figure before him had black, not blond, hair, there was no doubt in Darovit's mind who she was.
'Rain?' he called softly, so as not to startle her. 'What are you doing here?'
The woman spun to face him, her eyes wide. She stared at him blankly, unable to recognize the man she had last seen as a boy ten years before. Then her eyes dropped to the stump of his right hand, and her jaw fell agape.
'Tomcat?'
He nodded, then added. 'It's Darovit now. But sometimes I think
I still like Tomcat better.'
'You're a Jedi now?' she said, confused by his presence in the
Archives.
'No,' he answered quickly, unwilling to be mistaken for something he was not. 'I stayed on Ruusan after… after this.' He held up his stump. 'I became a healer.'
'What are you doing here?'
'I came to…' He stopped midsentence, suddenly realizing the danger Rain was in. The danger he had brought upon her.
'Rain, we have to get out of here! The Jedi are looking for you!'
'Tomcat, what are you talking about?'
'A Jedi came to Ruusan. I told him about you and Bane. That's why they brought me here!'
The young woman's eyes glowed with pure hatred and anger, and for a second Darovit thought she was going to kill him in the middle of the Jedi Archives.
'How much do they know?' she demanded. 'Tell me everything you told them!'
'Rain, there isn't time,' he protested. 'I'm just waiting here for them to come get me. They could be here any minute. You have to get out of here or they'll find you!'
She turned and punched a key on the terminal; a small datacard popped out. She snatched it up and stuffed it beneath her clothes. Then she grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him back down the aisle toward the central rotunda. She moved as quickly as she could without drawing attention, her pace something between a brisk walk and a run.