Anakin stared at Omal for a long moment. He felt sorry for him, and wished there was something he could do to help him. If what his Master said was true, Omal had been horribly and permanently changed.
“You’re okay,” Anakin said gently, snapping out of his thoughts. “We just need to get your face cleaned up.” He found a small scrap of relatively clean cloth and used it to wipe Omal’s face. Omal looked up at him gratefully for a brief moment. Then his eyes darted away again and he resumed rocking back and forth.
Anakin watched Omal for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally looked away, he felt a strong desire to move ahead with the mission. He had to know what had caused Omal’s downfall - what had the Jedi Council so up in arms.
He wanted to do it now - to get out of the apartment, get going. Dedra had told them everything she knew, and Omal was clearly not going to tell them anything at all. What was Obi-Wan still doing in the kitchen? Was there a reason it was taking him so long?
Feeling antsy, Anakin began to look around the living room. Piles of dirty clothes, scraps of food, and all kinds of other items were littered across the floor. None of them looked particularly interesting
or important.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Anakin spotted something shiny sticking out from under a tunic. Picking it up, he saw that it was a small holoprojector. Anakin tried to switch it on, but knew almost immediately that it was broken.
From his spot on the floor, Omal began to moan softly. “No, Norval. No,” he repeated.
Anakin barely heard him. He loved mechanical things, and couldn’t resist tinkering a tiny bit with the projector. He pulled a tool from his utility belt and started to fiddle. But the projector was jammed.
“Blast!” Anakin exclaimed. He was surprised by his own frustration. He usually loved this kind of challenge.
Anakin was about to toss the faulty projector aside when he pressed the right sequence and it suddenly came to life. At first the image was fuzzy, and Anakin had a hard time making it out. Then, as he began to realize what he was looking at, his mouth gaped open.
It was an image of a Jedi Knight being brutally murdered.
Anakin stood frozen, staring at the image. Behind him, Omal’s moaning was getting louder. Finally the sound got through to Anakin, and he tried to switch the projector off. Only now it was jammed on and didn’t shut down.
The murder played again, and again. The lthorian Jedi raised his lightsaber - but was hit from behind by a bolt from a blaster. The Jedi crumpled to the ground, dead.
Anakin’s heart began to race. He tried not to look at the image, but something seemed to be holding his eyes to it. And something about what he was looking at felt familiar. It was as if he had seen it before and knew it, somehow. Anakin began to feel ill.
Anakin forced his repair tool into the bottom of the projector and the image disappeared. He tossed the machine back onto the floor and turned away. His hands shook slightly and his knees felt wobbly. Omal’s moans gave voice to what Anakin was feeling.
Anakin took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. He knew messages of this sort were being sent around the galaxy, of course. He’d been at the briefing with the Jedi Council and had been told all about them. But he hadn’t actually expected to see one. He wasn’t prepared.
And now that awful image had been implanted in his mind. Anakin looked over at Omal. He stopped moaning, but his eyes darted back and forth between Anakin and the broken holoprojector on the floor.
Anakin was about to approach him when Obi-Wan came rushing into the living room with Dedra behind him. “I just got a call from the ship,” he said. “It seems Dr. Lundi has decided to talk again. And the pilot thinks there are vandals lurking around the hangar. He’s threatening to leave Lundi and take off.”
Anakin felt relief wash through him and realized just how unsettled he was by Omal’s apartment and the projector’s message. He wanted to get out of there, and right that second was none too soon.
“Did you tell him to hold tight?” Anakin asked, gratefully following Obi-Wan to the door.
Obi-Wan nodded. “But I’m not sure how long he’ll wait for us. He’s been a little jittery since we left Coruscant.”
“You can say that again,” Anakin said. “The guy has no backbone.”
The Jedi said good-bye to Omal and Dedra and hurried back to the ship. Anakin knew that he should tell his Master about the projector and the message, but for some reason didn’t want to. It was strange, but he felt guilty about it. It was as if he were somehow responsible for the message, for what happened in it.
But that makes no sense at all, Anakin thought. I don’t even know who those people are. Or were.