The Kingdom of the Blind

Chapter 1: An Ode to My Hands (Part 1)

Written by Sailor Nova

There are many people in this world that live perfect lives.

They are born beautiful and rich and happy and they stay that way until their death. They never feel suffering or loss or sorrow or guilt or regret. They are sheltered away from the horrors of war, poverty, and death. They know no misfortune, and no defeat. No hatred or evil ever touches them. They live completely oblivious to what it's like to have demons on your back and skeletons in your closet. They do not understand - nor do they try to understand - such things as sadness or fear, and show no remorse or sympathy or even pity for those of us who live difficult lives filled every day with these things. They don't know what it's like to have everything you care about in the world torn away from you -- to walk through the snow to the funeral of the love of your life; to look down at his sixteen year old body on a pyre. They don't know what it's like to be manipulated and used, to be lied to and fooled and exploited. And they don't care.

I know all too well that life is not fair. But I think that perhaps... it should be.

I have spent so much time trying to define myself, and in the end, this is where I have found my place in life. Between the right and the wrong, the just and the unjust. Rather than accept the injustices of this universe, I have taken the task of shaping our lives - our society, our civilization - into my own hands. Too many people fail to realize that we are the embassadors of our own fates. I refuse to let my power to shape fate go to waste. I use it, to the best of my ability, to help make things fair again.

It's not vengeance. I'm not lashing out. None of it is for my own sake. Certainly, I want to ease the burden of guilt, anger, and resentment that less fortunate people carry. But it is so much more than that. What I do is both an attempt to heal mankind and a service to my victims. I help them to live life through sadness and suffering.

You might think that I do this out of envy for people who have lived lives happier than mine, but really, that's far from the truth. So many people misunderstand me so much. I don't envy my victims. I feel sorry for them. I feel sorry that they're taking advantage of their good fortune, that they don't see how incredibly lucky they are to have the things that they do. My job is to open their eyes. The light can't exist without the dark. True happiness can't exist without pain and grief. My job is to bring them their first stinging taste of this sorrow.

What exactly do I do? Well, whatever I have to. I have done things as simple as spilling a glass of water to things as complex as framing people for murders that I had no hand in. Over the years I have trained myself extensively in the various skills and trades of criminals. Electroterrorism, lockpicking, and small firearms are my specialties. I can hack into the most heavily guarded databases in the galaxy, and have successfully broken into countless homes, businesses, museums, banks, and vaults. I tamper with data and records of all kinds, from medical to official to personal. I 'misplace' valuable items. I blackmail. My day-to-day activities vary with the wind, although more often than not I find myself using the easiest route to a person's vitality -- through their heart. I don't let any trait of mine go to waste, including my good looks.

Some of the things I do are legal, but many of them are not. I don't let this bother me. I am not concerned about being caught. Yes, I've committed crimes. Yes, I've killed people. I don't take it lightly. It's a serious operation that requires much planning and absolute necessity. It is only reserved for the most desperate of cases. Although of course, those who get in my way rarely make it out alive. Yes, I have committed murders. How many? Well, the exact figure is, of course, for me to know and you to find out.

My victims are anything but random. I do in-depth research into their lives. They have to fit the archetype that I have laid out. The 'application' process is actually quite involved. I can find them anywhere from on the front page of the evening edition to behind me in line to buy a carton of milk. After I find them, I spend weeks, sometimes months, gathering the essential information about said victim. They go through the application process, and then I take a few days to decide what to do to them. Do I want to place some sort of illegal spice in their pillow? Do I want to forge a letter from a 'mistress' and place it in sight of their wife? Do I want to infiltrate their workplace and steal their position from under their feet, or get them thrown out on the street due to some sort of fraud or embezzlement? Perhaps the 'accidental' death of a loved one will be the thing to drive them over the edge. Whatever I eventually decide on, I always execute perfectly. My attacks are calculated and precise. Nothing goes wrong -- I put every corner of my mind to work. Genius must never go to waste, I always say.

The police and the military and the myriad of robots and computers that they have buzzing around searching for me... really, they are no match for me. I haven't even changed residences more than twice in the past two years that I've been doing this.

Men really are fools, no?

"Just like that! That's beautiful, with the other ships outside behind you... stand just like that, Miss Kozue. Just a few more shots."

The flash of the holocamera sputtered to life, illuminating the bridge of the Eye Of Venus, throwing shadows into corners and glints of light off of the polished blade of the model's ceremonial sword.

"That's Vice Admiral Kozue to you," chided a bespectacled man off to the side, beyond the reach of the probing camera lens. "And those 'other ships' would be the CCS Exile and the CCS Hands Of The World." No one said anything in response. In the corner, the regal girl with the long dark hair snickered under her breath. And from her perch in the command seat where she was posing, Vice Admiral Caden Kozue just grinned mischievously.

The camera flashed again.

I was in the doctor's office when I first saw her. Although, I didn't really see HER. It was a picture of her. I was in the waiting room, standing at the counter and tapping my foot impatiently, as the doctor was taking his time with the prescription for my morning pill in the back. What little patience I had ran out and I decided to scroll through one of the holomags on the counter.

I remember the particular holomag distinctly. It just looked like a regular women's magazine on the outside -- an empowering word as the title in big red letters, an older Twi'lek woman smiling broadly behind an oversized headline about looking sexy at fifty. It was a monthly publication, and this issue had obviously been out for a few weeks. It was well-used, the buttons beginning to wear down and some of the pages becoming dim. When I picked it up it was already open to an article about men's secret sexual fantasies. Women really are fools, no?

But the real treasure trove in this temporary tome was to be found elsewhere. In the front, beyond the article about looking sexy at fifty, was a seven-page special about women in power. I flipped through it quickly; I really had no interest in reading the actual article, at least not at that particular point in time. And then, about four or five pages in, I saw her. It was a huge picture that took up the entire page. She was posing on the bridge of a ship, sitting in the commander's seat, legs crossed, leaning back comfortably in the plush chair. She had long, creamy chocolate hair, and deep jade green eyes -- she was very beautiful, and surprisingly young. In her hands she held a gleaming silver sword, with a long golden tassel dangling off the end that seemed to cascade over the creases in her gray uniform pant. On the arm of her uniform jacket, there were five golden hashes.

I twitched involuntarily, and looked again into her eyes. She had an indescribable smirk on her face, her fine red lips twisted into a malicious smile -- like she knew some incredible secret that I didn't, like she was reveling in the fact that she was higher than me and better than me and had so much figurative power over me. I glanced down at the caption:

'On the bridge of her command ship, the CCS Eye Of Venus, Vice Admiral Caden Kozue--'

That was all I needed to know. The doctor gave me my prescription, I buried it deep in my coat pocket, and on the way home I picked up the latest issue of StandUp women's holomag.

That night, I got home and pasted her picture from the holomag into a virtual collage of news clippings and notes and photos on my other victims. I sat down in my chair, my coat still wet from the light rain outside, and stared at the photograph. She was obviously not a model. The way she posed, it was far too gentle and unsure, but at the same time held such incredible confidence. The way that her fingers only gingerly grazed the blade of her sword... And then, there was that SMILE.

It was one of the smiles you see politicians touting around when they're not putting on a fake one for publicity shots. The smile that they smile to themselves because they know they're rich and young and beautiful and in control. No, it's not a smile, it's a smirk, it's a grin, it's devious and it's terrible and I hated her for it.

It was about sunset when I linked up. I stayed at the computers for the next fifteen or sixteen hours researching her. She absolutely enveloped me in the wealth of information there was about her; from her personal diaries to transcripts of the speeches that have been given in her honor, her life wrapped around me like the blossom of a flower. It was a flawless cocoon -- not one piece missing from the puzzle, not one disfigured or discolored or rotting petal. It had been awhile since I had seen such a perfect specimen of existence without existence. It was all too easy to find, and I read every word of it.

She had lived a perfect, normal childhood -- her mother had died when she was young, but her life seemed to have been normal and happy nonetheless. She had perfect, normal relations with her siblings and her father. She had perfect, normal grades in school and had always been a model student, team captain, club leader, or whatever other role she had decided she wanted to fill. She had a couple of normal boyfriends, and stable, normal teenaged relationships with them. One she broke up with because he moved to Bespin, and the other just became a good friend as the ties between them cooled down in what was apparently a very clean split. Seems incredibly unfair, don't you think?

She had a group of normal friends -- they all did perfect, normal things after school and never got into trouble. They had normal problems that were few and far between, and they never fought. She still is in contact with most of them. Her family all had illustrious careers in the Coruscant Navy, and from the moment hers began, it too had showed incredible promise. She has attended the funerals of many fellow Army and Navy recruits, but she has never seen true 'war' -- war with mass casualties and destruction, with torture and brutalization. The most under her command that have been lost in one mission is three. She sees death as just a part of the job.

Now, she is at the apex of her career, as the highest-ranking female in the Coruscant Navy. She has a secret love of her life, the daughter of her superior. Seeing her and being around her brings her incredible joy. She goes on routine missions, having fun commanding and piloting in them both. Afterwards, she joins her men out on the town, and they never fail to have a grand old time.

Caden Kozue was an incredibly proud, loyal woman, and every day of her life had been a joy to live. Fortunately for her, that was about to change very, very soon.

As the sun was just gaining the momentum to cross the sky the next day, I collapsed from exhaustion. Having failed to take my afternoon medication, I had another dream about him. Pay attention, Naoya; listen to me, Naoya; talk to me, Naoya -- I want to talk about our future. Turn off the computers and talk to me, Naoya.

To this day I don't know how long I slept, but when I awoke it was already deep midnight, and I was absolutely paralyzed by hunger.

I'm such a fool.

Two weeks ago, Anastasia had shown up at Caden's photo shoot unexpectedly, as a surprise, and they had gone out to dinner afterwards. So Caden figured that it would be a friendly gesture to return the favor, and visit the set of the new music holovid Anastasia was filming. The holovid would come as a special bonus with the first presses of her new single, 'Vision', that was set to be released later that summer. Anastasia was back on Coruscant for a couple of months between tours to work on 'Vision' and to take a short vacation, a rare respite from her usually hectic schedule. Despite having the usual responsibilities of studio work and filming advertisements, she found herself with more free time than she knew what to do with. Caden had jumped at the opportunity to spend more time with her friend, and was enjoying beyond description their frequent outings, dates, and get-togethers.

Caden wasn't sure when she had started loving her.

It may have been the first time they had met, it may have been the first time she felt butterflies in her stomach when she looked her way, it may have been have been last month as they stood overlooking the seas of Calamari, or maybe it was last week watching her rehearse before her big operahouse performance, all dressed in a glittering gown and diamonds. It might have been last year or two weeks ago or yesterday or this morning, or maybe it was just a moment ago -- she didn't know and it really didn't matter, because the deed had already been done, she had already taken the fall, here she was in love and there was nothing that was going to bring her back to the way she was before.

She didn't know how it had started and she had not even an inkling of how it was going to end -- if it was going to end at all. As it was right now, anything could happen, there were a thousand outcomes in sight, and she just needed to choose a path and follow it through to completion. But that was of course much easier said than done. Caden was a hero in all areas but the one that she cared most about lately: love. There, she was just a coward.

It was a beautiful day for a ride, and Caden took the long route through the park district on the way to the video shoot. Although her superiors were always pressuring her to hire a driver or chauffeur to bring her places, Caden insisted on driving herself, in her personal hovercar. She had no need for someone to taxi her around and saw such things as frivolous flaunting of status and wealth. She loved driving too much to give it up for a symbol.

Caden enjoyed driving and piloting of every sort. It was the rush of having a steel beast under your control... muscles of fire, snarling steam, reining it in with a bridle of wires, feeling it shudder against you through your palms, sweaty hands closed tight around the cold metal of its steering yokes. She never understood people who piloted via neural connection to their craft's computerized piloting system. Flying, to her, was not about a conversation between pilot and craft. It was about control. It was about feeling.

A route not generally travelled by the freight craft and airtaxis that littered the Coruscant airways, the hovercar lanes that wound through the park district on the surface of Coruscant were nearly empty, giving Caden room to enjoy the power of her machine and the good weather both. The fragrant odor of springtime buds was ripe in the air, blossoming thick and heady under the midday sun. Coruscant was not a planet known for its magnificent flora, and its parks were few and far between, but the best of those that the planet did house, located in the top-level park district, were gorgeous. The district was impressive in its beauty and sheer size, even though Caden had heard that the largest park on the planet belonged to a private academy rather than the city.

Unfortunately the ride through the parks was over as soon as it had begun, her hovercar emerging from the thicket of firewood trees and speeding through the park gates, leading Caden back to the busier airways of the city. Luckily her destination was not far off, the tall dark face of the film studio building gleaming obsidian in the sun. After only a minute or two more of driving, she wove her sleek craft through the remaining lanes of traffic and in a lavish maneuver, swung it into the landing bay in front of the studio.

She stepped out of her hovercar into the small hangar and her heels made aristocratic, high-society clicks on the solid metal floor. Shaking her long chocolate hair out, Caden tossed her sunglasses into the front seat of the open-air vehicle. Her emerald green eyes glinting in the sun, the warmth of its rays falling on her regal profile, her perfectly pink lips turned upward in a sweet smile, she brushed the creases out of her snug gray uniform and adjusted the commander's hat perched on her head.

The lot attendant gave her an exasperated look with all four of his eyes.

"Put it in the shade, will ya?" she told him before heading into the building.

Caden took care to be quiet while entering the studio where they were filming the video, which proved to be an unnecessary gesture -- they were between takes at that moment. Today, they were filming the final scene of the 'Vision' video, of Anastasia singing in a reflecting pool. From the studio entryway, Caden couldn't see what was going on in the tall set. The set was basically a huge cylinder, constructed to mimic the round room in which the pool was to be in. She could hear the trickling and rippling of water echoing from within. Around the perimeter of the cylinder were cut six or seven high doorways, into which bright lighting shone. Above the set hovered the lighting booms and camera platform, where the filming crew tinkered with their machinery and the director sat pondering the next shot, thoughtfully stroking his beard.

There were lights and cameras and wires and droids buzzing about everywhere. It was so busy, that no one seemed to even notice Caden's presence. Through the doorways into the set, Caden could see glimpses of wardrobe and makeup people as they fussed over Anastasia. She tried standing on her tiptoes to get a better look, but with all the action going around on her, she really could see very little. She made her way around the circular set, but was unable to find a suitable vantage point. She settled for a tucked away holoscreen with feed from the main camera hovering above the action, but even then all she could see was an overhead view of the same things -- people busily readying both Anastasia and the set.

"Are we ready yet?" the director bellowed. "Come on now, we're almost done. Just the last chorus to go! Let's make this the final take, everybody!"

At his words, the myriad of attendants mulling about Anastasia picked up their pace to near double-time. The final touches were put on to Anastasia's dark hair, the makeup around her violet eyes, the light tunic she was wearing -- and then, they all scuttled away. When she saw how beautiful Anastasia looked, laying in the black water, Caden's mouth fell open. She felt her cheeks burn with the beginnings of a blush. She almost wanted to turn away, as if she didn't deserve to watch.

There in the water, Adara was a luminous goddess, a shiva of the springs and of the earth; Caden found it hard to believe she was a real person, a person with whom she had laughed and cried and dined and danced. Her cinnamon skin had been brushed with bronze, and it shimmered in the bright amber lights from above. Her crystalline eyes were lined with earthy kohl and her full lips painted a glossy natural pink. Her long hair had been curled and braided and bejeweled, and it now covered the water around her like a mass of silky, glimmering sea grass. She wore only a brown linen gown, that both flowed through the pool and clung to the pleasing curves of her body. Her toned arms, shoulders, and neck were all exposed, water rippling around them as her upper body crested above the surface. Her gaze was fixed off to the side somewhere, but Caden could still see as the light glinted in her eyes. Caden couldn't help but smile at the beautiful young woman's passion, and the way she could always see it burning inside of her.

Anastasia's chest rose and fell in the water as she took deep breaths. There was a call for quiet, and someone on the sidelines counted down. The music was cued, and began to play, the powerful melodies cascading through the studio. Caden crossed her arms and focused intensely on the holoscreen. Then the cameras were rolling, the director said 'Action!', and Anastasia looked at the cameras and began to sing.

"Bright moon above,
Pray be my mirror,
Send me a vision of myself
Light my path,
Open my eyes,
Show me my soul tonight..."

Anastasia didn't know she was there, she was just looking at a a camera; but it felt like she was staring right into Caden's soul, singing to her, pleading with her, moving for her... Caden put her hand over her bosom -- it felt as if her heart was going to beat itself right through her chest. Anastasia lifted her arms out of the water, and stretched them desperately into the sky as the song neared its climax.

"Oh hear my cry,
Yellow moon up high
Set me free, let me fly
Help me to search,
Lead me to find,
Resurrect me, revive me,
Give me strength,
Send me a vision of myself tonight..."

Jade eyes wide, Caden watched, enraptured, as Anastasia writhed and struggled in the water. She arched her back and parted her full lips wide, letting the song flow like an uncontrollable fountain up from her. She tossed and turned and thrashed, she clutched at her breast in rapture, she wound her fingers in her hair and pulled at her dress and pushed at the surface of the pool with her long hands. Her eyes flickered closed in ecstasy as she let the music move her, contorting her face into expressions of overwhelming bliss. Caden couldn't take her eyes off of her hands, as she kept reaching up again and again, desperate to grasp at the stars and the sun and the moons as they hovered in the hypothetical firmament. Digging her fingernails into the arms of her gray uniform, Caden had to force herself not to reach back.

Two tears escaped from Caden's eyes, and trickled down her cheek. Why was she crying? Why was she shaking? Gods, she loved her. As much as it sometimes hurt, as much as it made her feel guilty, she loved her -- she loved every part of her, everything about her. She loved all colors of her -- the scarlet Adara and the ochre alike, the golden woman and the emerald woman and the azure and the orchid. She loved her passion and her grace and her confidence and her devotion; her bravery and her beauty, her innocence and her purity but also her youthful, feminine sensuality. She loved everything she said, everything she did, every single move that she made, and as desperate as she was for her, it made her feel alive like nothing else ever had.

"Bright moon above, pray be my mirror,
Wake me at midnight, rouse me from sleep,
Illuminate my room with your divine light,
Bless me with your kiss, absolve me with your touch,
And send me a heavenly vision of myself tonight..."

Caden had to look away to wipe her tears as the song came to a conclusion, and Adara lowered all of herself down into the water. She let her eyes drift closed, and her head fall back. Her hands rested, quiet, on the surface. As the 'moonlight' began to shine down on her, a euphoric smile graced her lips, and she slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep.

"CUT!"

There was a flash of white on the screen, and then it went black. There was noise and light and chaos again; Caden could hear Anastasia being helped out of the water, the applause of the crew, and the singsong croon of her laugh. A droid rolled into one of the doors with a white, fluffy towel over its arms.

Caden adjusted her uniform, pushed stray locks of hair behind her ears, and blotted her eyes with the back of her hand one last time. She took a deep breath and put on a smile -- it wasn't hard to convince one to bubble up from within her. It was over, now she could do what she was here to do. She would meet her, and surprise her; she would help her pick out an outfit and style her hair back in her dressing room. They would go out for something to eat, or to a club for dancing, or out to see a movie, and they would both have a wonderful time. But at the end of the evening, they would each return to their respective rooms and nothing would have changed. It killed her, but she couldn't change it, she didn't know how, and she couldn't bring herself to say the three or four words that could.

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