Imperial times- Coruscant

As soon as the secret door closed, he chirruped loudly in relief, sinking to a crouch on the floor.

"Get up, what's wrong with you?" she demanded quietly. He growled half-heartedly, a tear running down his cheek.

"No a pet, no bow and cower," he snapped, hissing, ending the hiss with a sob. She planted her fists on her hips.

"Oh please, stop sniveling and do what he told you to." Tarik growled menacingly, snapping at her only half- meaning.

"Can't even bite you," he whined, flexing his claws.

She sighed in disgust, starting off down the secret stairwell without him. He whimpered for a moment, then followed her down the steps.

He stopped short at a point where the stairs double-backed under itself. Mara stood there waiting, arms crossed impatiently.

"Coming this time?" she asked sarcastically. Tarik nodded sadly, rubbing at his cheek with the back of a clawed hand.

--------------

The room was a real room inside, not a cell like he'd expected. There was a bed, and a closet with some odd two-piece jumpsuits in it. A new pair of boots lay in the bottom of the closet, and a few other necessities were in the other drawers and things he poked his snout into.

Better than all that, there was a large plate with something that smelled good on it waiting in the little dining area near the door.

He chirruped happily, not knowing what to do first. Mara seemed less than enthusiastic to be hanging around him this long.

"There's only one door, and it'll be locked at all times, unless he sends someone down for you." she said. Tarik clicked unhappily, forgetting his enthusiasm for his new home already.

"No a pet," he growled.

She sighed, "Fine, think whatever you want, but you're here now," she said,turning to leave.

"Careful," Tarik warned. She turned back toward him, defensive.

"What was that?" she asked. Tarik chirruped, looking around before he spoke again.

"Be careful, no follow blue fuzzy or get hurt," he said, chirping at her again. She shook her head, sighing.

"Whatever," she said indifferently, walking out of the room and locking the door behind her. Tarik ticked to himself, shifting his weight and curling his tail.

"Try to warn you," he sighed, turning away and continuing his exploration of his room.

After a hot bath and a change into some of the odd clothes in the closet, Tarik felt strange but contented for now. He stretched out on the bed, feeling strangely human wearing pants and a white sleeveless under-shirt instead of his loincloth.

He tucked one arm under his head, with the other draped across his stomach as he studied the ceiling, thinking. Pieces of things that had confused him were starting to fit together.

The empire had made him, like they made ships and droids. He was a tool as far as they were concerned, just property to be used when needed. They'd created him as a weapon, and like any other weapon, they'd engineered a safety lock into him.

He couldn't fight off the genetic programming that made him obey what the old man in black told him to do, and he couldn't fight the programming that stopped him from sensing him as something dangerous.

He knew he was dangerous,he'd seen first-hand what the empire was capable of doing to people. Plus, he could just sense what was wrong and right around him sometimes, and he knew by instinct that something was very wrong here.

He sighed, closing his orange eyes and flicking his ear away from where the pillow made it tickle. Maybe the instinct that had wanted him to stay here wasn't just from his being 'needed' here by something, like when he'd known he had to rescue Mina and the others.

Mina........, why did he have to think of her now? he snapped at himself, fighting off a tear at the memory of her. She was probably someplace safe, following the rebel fleet to wherever their new secret base would be.

He let out a deep sigh/chirrup, hoping she was all right. He rolled over onto his side, sighing again and tucking one hand under his chin.

This was all getting so dangerous, and so confusing. Who should he be? Tarik, the thing that had spent his life on the street? Or the nameless creature who'd climbed out of the ruins of the lab all those years ago? The revered warrior-hunter/Nature- spirit without a spoken name, since the natives couldn't pronounce his name properly?

Or was this all he was, someone's escaped pet, dragged home after all these years to follow at his master's heel and answer his beckon call?

No, he refused to believe that. He was not a pet, and that withered old creature was not his master. He would no-more call him master than he would bow and cower at the fat Drekano's smelly orange and purple feet.

No, he had just begun to find out who he really was when he'd been taken from Dantooine. Those times were gone, there was no way to experiment with rolling pebbles without touching them now. He'd be caught, killed, and turned into a pair of boots if he let them know he could do that.

Tarik sighed deeply, weary beyond mere physical tiredness. Only a few days ago, he'd been sleeping in the grass, hiding from giant slugs and playing in the river. Today, he was someone's pet, someone's property, a thing that they kept locked in a pretty cage.

He growled, looking around the room unhappily. It only looked like a room, it was still really just another cage, no matter how big and comfy it was.

He rolled onto his stomach, stretching himself out as far as he could on the soft bed, trying to pretend he wasn't a prisoner. He closed his eyes, sighing into the hard pillow that he'd been given.

Nope, it felt nice, but it was still too much like a cage. He flopped over onto his back with a grunt, punching the pillow uncomfortably. He finally gave up on the pillow, tossing it across the room and onto the chest of drawers.

It was going to be a long night.

----on to Part 3 of Chapter 7---

© 2000 Michelle Petrosky

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