The Awakening

[Yyp Dracyl]

     Slowly, the blackness dissipated and his vision came into focus.  The room still remained dark; nothing could be seen.  Yet, there was light, because he could see that darkness enveloped the area.  Looking upward, he noticed two blue glow globes, suspended from the ceiling of some sort of cylindrical tube.  Only when looking up could he tell that bubble-like air pockets were rising around him.  Then it hit him. Those are bubbles.  This is a bacta tank.  I'm being held in a bacta tank.  This surprised him greatly, though, because, try as he might, nothing could be remembered from before this bacta-tank experience.
     Several minutes passed as he spewed through his mental capabilities, hoping beyond the greatest expectations to find some shred of his identity or his past.  He could remember nothing.  Yet, somehow he knew that it was procedure for a patient to be released from bacta treatment upon waking.  He had not been released, though.  His hands still remained strapped to the side of the tank.  What if these people are holding me against my will?  Am I a hostage?  Almost frantically, he began to struggle.  His hands being immobile, he began to kick the bottom of the tack with his feet, alternating between the two in a pattern of two kicks with one and then three with the other.  He could not break the glass holding him in this aqueous prison.  Past the point of allowable frustration, he lunged forward with all of his strength and banged the glass with his head.
      The glass's integrity had finally been compromised and, in the process, his leather shackles had been torn off.  The liquid had rushed out, and his body was liberated from its imprisonment but at a great cost.  His body fell forward and landed on the cold hard floor, but he had never known that it happened.  He blacked-out again before his body hit the landing.

[Yyp Dracyl]

    His black vision again gave way to the bright, monotonous room.  This time, however, he was strapped to the bed of what appeared to be some room of a medical facility.  His memory still remained as murky before - he could remember nothing before waking in the bacta tank.  Suddenly, the door opened, and a humanoid of about 50 years-of-age walked in.  He asked, "How are you feeling today?"  Silence hung around them, as the boy forced himself to not respond.  Again, the doctor prodded for a response of some sort.  He received none and, eventually, grew tired and left. 
    The boy knew that he had to escape...his paranoia was still raging frightfully strong.  By squeezing his hand together, he managed to slip it out of its prison.   He then undid the other arm and the legs.  Jumping out of the bed, he dressed.  Quietly but quickly, he opened the door and made his way undetected down the corridor and to the main floor station.  He saw a door behind the counter that would lead to a staircase; so he made his way around to it.  As he passed the counter, he noticed that the doctor had left his medical file lying on the desk.  Hearing footsteps, there was not enough time to read it - he grabbed the datapad, tucked it into his pants, and took off down the stairs.  The staircase opened up on the ground floor, right next to an exit door.  As he pushed the doors open, the first rays of light that he could ever remember hit his face.  He swiftly ran off away from the medical facility and toward an uncertainty greater than before.

[Yyp Dracyl]

     It had taken several days but the lock on the datapad had finally been cracked.  The multiple files carried a spectrum of medical reports ranging for simple healthcare to patient history.  Tracking down the pertinent information proved to be difficult, especially when so much seemed worthless.  Yet one thing nagged at his mind...the absence of any real detail toward his life.  He name had been uncovered, though.  S'rol Salvedar.  Furthermore, he had come to realize the situation surrounding his birth.  He's a clone!  This made no sense to him - it just couldn't be.  He had to return to the medical facility and find out more about who he is and from where he came.

[Yyp Dracyl]

     S'rol had spent months on the streets.  It seemed like decades, but had only been two years.  Finally, he could take it no more.  His body was fatigued from lack of food and sleep.  Without his strength, he succumbed to the darkness and collapsed on the cold, wet streets of the city that he had come to know as Heliopolix.

***

     Waking up, S'rol opened his eyes to see a room of white.  The bed sheets were white, the curtains white, and the gowns white.  The brightly lit room pained his eyes which had been closed in unconsciousness for the past few days.  As his eyes grew more accustomed to the light, he noticed greater details in the room.  He saw the fresh, red flowers on the side table and the get well cards posted along the wall.  Finally, his vision settled on a man sitting in a chair beside him.  The man seemed so familiar; yet, S'rol couldn't seem to place him.  His black hair lay matted and tangled, while his eyes showed lines of worry and doubt.  It was obvious that the man had been troubled as of late.  But what caught the young clone's attention the most was the air of superiority that the man naturally exhumed.  Even asleep, the man commanded the attention of everyone around and his tense, fluid chest motions (from breathing) showed years of exercise on self-control.
     Almost as if the man realized that the young clone had awakened, he stirred.  He suddenly rose up from the chair and then turned to sit on the edge of the bed.  Putting his eyes on the clone's face, he spoke.  "Good morning, S'rol.  I am Luc Paldar..."