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Chapter Text

Prologue

 The Force is sentient. Some believe it's the subconsciousness of all living beings combined.

Yes, yes, I know what the masters say these days: that attributing a sentience to the energy that binds us all is misleading, but pshaw! I've been around a lot longer than those young bucks who think they rule the galaxy. I have my own ideas and experiences that aren't going to buckle to some fancy talking robe with a glow stick, who believes that a mere half-century of breathing equates them the right to inform others what to think.

I was like that, once. Centuries ago, when I still held the position of Chronicler.

These days, I spend my time talking to ghosts and any padawan like you that comes searching for the crazy old coot haunting the back of the Enclave.

I suppose you've come looking for wisdom, or maybe a story? Well, if it's the former, you must know that's better drawn through experience than advice. Who'd want to do what a wrinkly old man tells them? But if you want to hear a yarn or two... I can help there. I'm a geriatric, now, but I still retain a gift unique even amongst the Jedi.

The masters may have advised you to avoid me and my tales. I can guess at their disapproving words: don't listen to the kooky fossil whose mind wanders off on tangents as tangled as a spiced-up spacer. His accounts are inaccurate and unbelievable; they contradict the archives and embellish the mundane.

But I tell what I see. And you can see, too, through my eyes - if you have the patience and the inclination.

For people leave echoes in the Force. Like psychic little footprints, I've always thought. And the more attuned to the Force, the greater the imprint. Well, I can see those memories, those reverberations, those ripples from souls who breathed long, long ago. 'Tis a rare gift, and one not understood by many, even from within the ranks of the Jedi.

I can show you a story, if you like. For that is what I do - I share the visions I pull from the eddies of the Force. And as I haven't come across you before, I shall choose one of my favourites. The Force has its favourites too, you know, and one of its greatest was Revan.

I suppose you will have heard of Revan. For what scholar of the Force hasn't, be they light, dark, or tiptoe along the middle-ground. Even millennia later, and Revan's story still fascinates.

But the transcripts and archives do not tell the whole tale, and some of the absolute fundamentals are just plain wrong.

What, you don't believe me? You think holo-footage and secure-linked archives are infallible, and cannot be edited by technology? But history is changed all the time: by conquerors, by agendas, even by simple translation errors. Events may be exaggerated, transformed, or hidden, due to someone's desire to change the past. And while the essence of Revan's story has travelled through the ages, it has not come through exact.

But where to start, ahhh... for Revan's story is a long one, with many facets. Hero, saviour, conqueror, villain… perhaps the very contradictions of Revan's life is the reason it is such a venerated fable.

I like to start at Revan's second beginning.

For how many people really get a second chance? If you had one, would you do things differently?

Or would you choose the same path?

The echoes I see… they are snatches of Revan's life. And when you are dealing with someone as powerful as Revan, those swept into the same orbit leave ripples in the Force as well. So this is not just Revan's story, but also those who were betrayed, saved, transformed and destroyed by Revan.

So sit back, young padawan, and share these visions with me. Witness Revan's rebirth, and see what wisdom you can glean from living someone else's second chance.

xXx

[Below is an Author's Note, Character / Mando'a Glossary, and POV listing. This is not necessary to read, especially if you are just starting this fanfiction where it will confuse rather than aid.]

In short, if you are here for the story, scroll down to the end and click 'Next'.

[I couldn't fit this into the End Notes!]

Author's Note:

Things you need to know about IOALS (Identities of a lost soul):

1\ IOALS began as a tribute to the game I loved so much in 2004, before blowing out of proportion and turning into a full blown saga. I had a ten-year break between chapters 45-46, which is partly why it's taken me so long to write. You could call this a multi-novel series, if you will, with each arc bridging to the next by the Hyperspace chapters. IOALS deviates from canon in both minor and major ways as the story progresses - because it wasn't canon when I first began the story, or for greater realism - or sometimes simply to make a well-trodden story more interesting. If you have any questions of why I have done something, drop me a line! I do always try to swing the plot back to canon - to stay true to the underlying story.

2\ I have not played SWtoR. This saga is a precursor to KotOR 2, and has ties-ins, nods, and some K2 characters making brief appearances, but it is not compliant with the Revan novel, nor with SWtoR. If I write the sequel, that won't be either.

3\ IOALS is an experiment at switching first person POV's. Character list is below, followed by Mando'a Glossary, followed by the list of POV's per chapter.

4\ I love reviews. I think every writer does. Encouragement, comments, constructive criticism, makes our writing feel more worthwhile - to know there are people out there reading it. I'd love to hear from you! Even if you having nothing to say other than that you are reading it. Honestly, a ping in my inbox from a review can make my day :-)

xXx

Character Glossary:

Each character will have the suffix [species, gender, OC] - 'OC' is only there is they are a non-canonical character. Species and gender are there if known. Characters are listed either by their current location when they first appear in this saga, or their affiliation, depending on is the most relevant. Some important historical characters follow afterwards. Very minor characters are omitted.

Endar Spire:
Bastila Shan [Human, female]: Jedi Padawan with overall commanding privileges on the Endar Spire. Known for her famous battle meditation used in the current war, and her role in the downfall of Darth Revan.
Carth Onasi [Human, male]: Republic Captain and commanding navi-advisor to the Endar Spire. Veteran of the Mandalorian Wars, and commended multiple times for valour.
Galdea [Cerean, male, OC]: Jedi Master in charge of the Jedi squad aboard the Endar Spire. Member of the Dantooine Council. Known as a master of the psychic side of the Force.
Jen Sahara [Human, female, OC]: Civilian scholar in ancient archaeology, attached to the Jedi squad.
Kylah Aramai [Mirialan/Human, female, OC]: Jedi Knight, part of the Jedi squad, close friend to Padawan Bastila Shan.
Neann Dallash [Zabrak/Human, male, OC]: Republic Lieutenant, senior navi-pilot and intelligence operative.
Trask Ulgo [Human, male]: Republic Ensign attached to the Jedi squad.

Taris:
Brejik [Human, male]: Leader of the Vulkars.
Calo Nord [Human, male]: Bounty-hunter with ties to the Exchange and the Sith Empire, and Davik Kang's second-in-command.
Canderous Ordo [Human, male]: Mandalorian mercenary working for Davik Kang. War General of Clan Ordo during the Mandalorian Wars.
Davik Kang [Human, male]: Exchange Head on Taris.
Gadon Thek [Human, male]: Leader of the Hidden Beks.
Gurney [Human, male]: Assistant to Dr Zelka Forn, has links to the Exchange.
Lina [Zabrak, female, OC]: Friend of Mission Vao.
Mission Vao [Twi'lek, female]: Member of the Hidden Beks.
Rukil [Human, male]: Old man in the Undercity encampment.
Sancha [male, OC]: Barman in Javyar's Cantina.
T3-M4 [astromech droid]: Custom-built droid ordered by Davik Kang.
Zaalbar [Wookiee, male]: Best friend of Mission Vao.
Zaerdra Leno [Twi'lek, female]: Second-in-command of the Hidden Beks.
Zelka Forn [Human, male]: Doctor in the Upper City who mans the Free Clinic.

Jedi Order - Dantooine Enclave:
Belaya Linn [Human, female]: Jedi Knight who disappeared to find Juhani after her failed Knight trials.
Dorak [Human, male]: Jedi Master who trained Dak Vesser amongst others. Chronicler of the Dantooine Enclave.
Jai'lel [male, OC]: Powerful Jedi Master of Dantooine, who accompanied Padawan Bastila Shan in the stealth strike on Darth Revan, and fell in the ensuing battle.
Juhani [Cathar, female]: Jedi Padawan who disappeared after believing she killed Master Quatra during her Knight trials.
Karon Enova [Zabrak, female, OC]: Jedi Master who initially trained Revan Freeflight. Most of Jedi life spent attached to the Coruscant High Temple. Member of the Dantooine Council.
Kester [male, OC]: Powerful Jedi Master of Dantooine, who accompanied Padawan Bastila Shan in the stealth strike on Darth Revan, and fell in the ensuing battle.
Lars Thorstan [Twi'lek, male, OC]: New padawan to Master Karon Enova.
Nemo [Human, male]: Jedi Master to Belaya Linn.
Quatra [Zabrak, female]: Jedi Master who trained Juhani.
Vandar Tokare [male]: Jedi Grandmaster who trained Yudan Rosh amongst others. Regarded as a master duellist. Leader of the Dantooine Enclave, member of the Dantooine Council, and absentee member of the Coruscant High Council.
Vima Sunrider [Human, female]: Jedi Knight with near-master status and a powerful command of the psychic side of the Force. Known for her nomadic lifestyle.
Vrook Lamar [Human, male]: Jedi Master to Padawan Bastila Shan. Some of Jedi life spent attached to the Coruscant High Temple. Member of the Dantooine Council.
Zhar Lestin [Twi'lek, male]: Jedi Master who initially trained Malak Devari. Most of Jedi life spent attached to the Coruscant High Temple.

Dark Jedi of the Sith Order (excluding Korriban Academy):
Bandon Stone [Human, male]: Shadow Hand to Darth Malak, stylizes himself as Darth Bandon, upper-ranked Dark Jedi.
Darth Malak [Human, male]: Formerly Malak Devari, now Dark Lord of the Sith Empire. Originally apprenticed to Darth Revan, before betraying the Sith Lord above Deralia and claiming the title of Dark Lord of the Sith for himself. Also see entry under The Jedi Thirteen.
Nisotsa Organa [Human, female]: Recruitment Officer and former Intelligence Head, upper-ranked Dark Jedi, recruited Dak Vesser. Also see entry under The Jedi Thirteen.
Sharlan Nox [Anzati, male, OC]: Recruitment Officer, upper-ranked Dark Jedi. Recruited Dustil Onasi and Mekel Kadoni.
Yudan Rosh [Twi'lek, male, OC]: Supreme Fleet Commander of the Sith Empire, upper-ranked Dark Jedi, leader of the Sith Front in the Rodian Corridor. Also see entry under The Jedi Thirteen.

Tatooine:
Griff Vao [Twi'lek, male]: Brother to Mission Vao, travelled to Tatooine (amongst other planets) to make his fortune. Currently employed by Czerka Corporation.
Lena Torand [Twi'lek, female]: Ex-girlfriend of Griff Vao and current partner to Komad Fortuna. Followed Griff to Tatooine.
Komad Fortuna [Twi'lek, male]: Hunter on Tatooine.
HK-47 [protocol and combat droid]: Custom-specced droid in Yuka Laka's shop.
Yuka Laka [Ithorian, male]: Runs a droid shop.

GenoHaradan:
Ajax Zarr [Zabrak, male, OC]: Senior data analyst in the GenoHaradan, reports to Spymaster Gaalin.
Eridius Talav [male, OC]: Overseer in the GenoHaradan.
Gaalin [male, OC]: Spymaster of the GenoHaradan who reports to Overseer Eridius.
Hulas [Rodian, male]: GenoHaradan recruiter based in Ahto City, Manaan.
Jeebra Noob [Rodian, male, OC]: Senior data analyst in the GenoHaradan, reports to Spymaster Gaalin.
Rulan Prolik [male]: Shapeshifter and retired Overseer, predecessor to Eridius. Currently based on Kashyyyk.
Tealia [Zabrak, female, OC]: Personal assistant to Overseer Eridius.

Manaan:
Gerith [male, OC]: Senate liaison stationed at the Republic embassy in Ahto City.
Kono Nolan [Human, male]: Lead research scientist for the Republic. Stationed on secret underwater kolto-harvesting base.
Laconi [Human, male, OC]: Republic Ensign stationed at the Republic embassy in Ahto City.
Roland Wann [Human, male]: Commander on the Republic Embassy in Ahto City.
Sami [Human, female]: Deep-sea ocean biologist for the Republic. Stationed on secret underwater kolto-harvesting base.
Waltzar [male, OC]: Republic Lieutenant attached to the Embassy, mans the Salvage Craft Oceanic Bounty.

Korriban:
Allen Bala [Human, male, OC]: Mandalorian mercenary based in Dreshdae, younger brother to Jagi.
Dak Vesser [Human, male]: Adept of the Sith Academy. Originally from the Dantooine Jedi Enclave and a good friend to Belaya Linn and Juhani, before leaving the Jedi in dissatisfaction. Part of Uthar Wynn's faction.
Dustil Onasi [Human, male]: Adept of the Sith Academy, son of Carth Onasi, survivor of the Telos bombing. Affiliated with Uthar Wynn's faction, and secret protege of Uthar.
Ergeron Jangar [male]: Mandalorian mercenary based in Dreshdae, old friend of Canderous Ordo.
Jagi Bala [Human, male]: Mandalorian mercenary based in Dreshdae.
Jorak Uln [male]: Original Headmaster of the Sith Academy when opened by Darth Revan. Was defeated by Uthar Wynn in a coup and believed to have been killed by him.
Kel Algwinn [Human, male]: Adept of the Sith Academy, part of Yuthura Ban's faction.
Mekel Kadoni [Human, male]: Adept of the Sith Academy, survivor of the Telos bombing, part of Yuthura Ban's faction and favourite of Yuthura. Was once good friends with Dustil Onasi.
Selene [Human, female]: Initiate of the Sith Academy, disappeared two years ago, close friend to Mekel Kadoni and Dustil Onasi.
Shaardan [Human, male]: Initiate of the Sith Academy.
Thalia May [Human, female]: Adept of the Sith Academy, recently disappeared, part of Yuthura Ban's faction.
Lashowe [Human, female]: Adept of the Sith Academy, part of Uthar Wynn's faction and favourite of Uthar.
Uthar Wynn [Human, male]: Headmaster of the Sith Academy, upper-ranked Dark Jedi of the Sith Empire.
Yuthura Ban [Twi'lek, female]: Second to Headmaster Uthar Wynn of the Sith Academy.

Republic officers - Mid Rim and Outer Rim:
Adashan [Mon Calamari, male, OC]: General of the Republic Army, veteran of the Mandalorian Wars, and commander of the dreadnought Lightstar.
Forn Dodonna [Human, female]: Admiral of the Republic Navy, veteran of the Mandalorian Wars, and commander of the heavy cruiser Meridus.
Fulmosh [Rodian, male, OC]: Gunner to Jordo Merrix, and Republic Ensign.
Jordo Merrix [Human, male]: Republic Captain and Wing Commander. Telosian native whose wife and daughter died in the Telos bombing. Old friend of Carth Onasi.
Davis Tar'coya [Sullustan, male, OC]: Commodore of the Republic Navy, veteran of the Mandalorian Wars, and second to Admiral Dodonna.

Kashyyyk:
Boda [male, OC]: Mandalorian mercenary working for Czerka.
Chorrawl [Wookiee, male]: Young passionate Wookiee sold into slavery.
Chuundar [Wookiee, male]: Current chieftain of Rwookrrorro, older brother of Zaalbar, and first son of former chieftain Freyyr.
Da'thok Kelborn [male, OC]: Mandalorian mercenary hired by Czerka that Canderous Ordo meets.
Dan Fett [male, OC]: Mandalorian mercenary hired by Czerka that Canderous Ordo meets.
Drawwlog [Wookiee, male, OC]: Aide to chieftain Chuundar. Years ago, Drawwlog and Ruubarg confided in Zaalbar what they knew of Chuundar's secret tach trade. After Ruubarg died of illness and Zaalbar went public with Chuundar's dealings, Drawwlog denied all knowledge.
Freyyr [Wookiee, male]: Zaalbar's father and chieftain of Rwookrrorro before Chuundar exiled him to the Shadowlands.
Growwhul [Wookiee, male, OC]: Old One of Rwookrrorro, life-mate to Tasharr.
Jabakka [Wookiee, male, OC]: Oldest of the Old Ones of Rwookrrorro.
Jacen Ordo [Human, male, OC]: Mandalorian mercenary hired by Czerka. Cousin to Canderous Ordo, and regarded as an up-and-coming Ordo leader during the Mandalorian Wars.
Jernnin Lok [Besalisk, male, OC]: Mandalorian mercenary hired by Czerka that Canderous Ordo meets, Third of the Lok Clan during the Mandalorian Wars.
Ruubarg [Wookiee, male, OC]: Years ago, Ruubarg and Drawwlog confided in Zaalbar that Chuundar was involved with the Czerka tach trade. Ruubarg became very ill and died shortly afterward.
Tasharr [Wookiee, female, OC]: Old One secretly sold into slavery by Chuundar, and life-mate to Growwhul.
Trallia Kelborn [female, OC]: Mandalorian mercenary hired by Czerka that Canderous Ordo meets. Known for risky basilisk manoeuvres during the Mandalorian Wars.

Sith Officers - Mid Rim and Outer Rim:
Delia [Sullustan, female, OC]: Lieutenant of the Sith Empire, and second to Admiral Karath.
Sara [Sullustan, female, OC]: Admiral of the Sith Empire, and veteran Republic officer from the Mandalorian Wars who followed Darth Revan to join the newly-created Sith Empire. Second-in-charge of the Sith Front in the Rodian Corridor, reports to Dark Jedi Yudan Rosh.
Saul Karath [Human, male]: Admiral of the Sith Empire, and veteran Republic officer from the Mandalorian Wars who followed Darth Revan to join the newly-created Sith Empire. Commander of the Leviathan. Telosian native and original mentor of Carth Onasi.

Jedi Order - Coruscant High Council:
Atris Surik [Human, female]: Jedi Master on the High Council, half-sister to Meetra Surik.
Kavar Kira [Human, male]: Jedi Master on the High Council, known as a master duellist, and originally master to Meetra Surik. Has links to the royal family of Onderon.
Lonna Vash [Human, female]: Jedi Master on the High Council.
Zez-Kai Ell [Human, male]: Jedi Master on the High Council, originally master to Nisotsa Organa.

Other:
Dillan Starsson [male, OC]: PR Agent to the Outer Rim worlds for the Exchange.
Marlani Gerrant [female, OC]: Senior Marketing Overseer and PR spokesperson for Czerka Corporation - Intergalactic news.
Seriina Star [Human, female, OC]: Intergalactic actress who shot to fame due to her notorious holo-flicks loosely based on the life of Revan Freeflight. **OC from kosiah's fic 'Memory'**.
Suvam Tan [Rodian, male]: Sole operative of an abandoned space station orbiting Yavin IV, that runs a trade in illegal goods and ship repair, predominantly for the Exchange but also with some Sith contacts.
Ularic Gren [Human, male, OC]: The Republic Senate's official correspondent to the Intergalactic HoloNet news.

Sith Officers/crew of the Star Forge:
Atton Rand [Human, male]: Sith strikefighter pilot.
Beso [male, OC]: Commodore of the Sith Empire, head of Internal Defence.
Carly [Rodian, female, OC]: Ensign of the Sith Empire, maintenance tech. Reports to Corporal Kampton. Impersonated by the shapeshifter Rulan Prolik.
Inon Daelidar [Zabrak, male, OC]: General of the Sith Empire, Commander of the Star Forge, and veteran Republic officer from the Mandalorian Wars who followed Darth Revan to join the newly-created Sith Empire.
Jha'hasi [Human, male, OC]: Lieutenant of the Sith Empire, communications technician and liaison to Commodore Beso / General Daelidar.
Kampton [Rodian, male, OC]: Corporal of the Sith Empire, and second-in-command of Maintenance. Reports to Commodore Beso.
Slayers [multiple]: A Force-blind shadowy group of assassins created by Dark Jedi Jonn Dan to hunt down and either kill or turn Jedi with the aid of Force-suppressing technology. Members include: Jaq, Min, Ran, Ros, Tor.
Troystar [Human, male, OC]: ID of a Sith captain and starpilot from a stealth-capable Aurek-class snubfighter. Both ship and captain were captured by Admiral Dodonna's forces at the culmination of the battle above Kashyyyk.

Republic officers/crew - Unknown Regions:
Rickard Gant [male, OC]: Admiral of the Republic Navy, veteran of the Mandalorian Wars, and commander of the dreadnought Astral Pride.
Joss [male, OC]: Republic Ensign and starpilot.
Lilani [female, OC]: Republic gunner to Ensign Joss.
Sammy Tobards [male, OC]: Republic Ensign, gunner to Corporal Tensey, and expert marksman.
Tensey [female, OC]: Republic Corporal and starpilot.

Historical Figures - The Mandalorian Wars - The Jedi Thirteen (also known as Revan's Guard of Twelve):
Alaki Vash [male, OC]: Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership. Killed by Bandon Stone shortly after Arran and Bandon's betrayal at Deralia.
Arran Da'klor [Zeltron, male, OC]: Worked closely with Nisotsa Organa and her younger cousin Neiza Organa. Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership. Arran Da'klor was killed by Darth Revan on Deralia due to his betrayal.
Cariaga Sin [Human, female]: Died during the Mandalorian Wars.
Jexer Te'reda [male, OC]: Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership. Died sometime during Revan's war against the Republic.
Jonn Dan [male, OC]: Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership. Original creator of the Slayers. Killed by Yudan Rosh.
Malak Devari [Human, male]: Grew up in poverty on Talshion, little-known planet along the Outer Rim. Reputed to be the most powerful Force-user found in centuries together with Revan Freeflight. Recruited to the Jedi Order six years beyond the usually accepted guideline of ten Standard years. Shot to galactic fame during the Mandalorian Wars as one of the most pivotal members of the Jedi Thirteen. Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership. Betrayed Darth Revan above Deralia, and claimed the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith.
Meetra Surik [Human, female]: Along with Revan Freeflight, Malak Devari and Yudan Rosh, Meetra Surik was one of the four most famous knights in the Jedi Thirteen. A Force-empath that was well-regarded by all, Meetra was known as a competent ground general during the Mandalorian Wars who worked closely with Revan, Yudan, and Xaset Terep. Meetra and Xaset were pivotal to the destruction of Malachor V that ended the Mandalorian Wars. Having not been sighted publicly since then, both Jedi are presumed dead by the galaxy at large, but still hailed as heroes of the Republic due to their actions and leadership during the Mandalorian Wars. 
Nisotsa Organa [Human, female]: Intelligence Expert who worked closely with Revan Freeflight, Malak Devari and Arran Da'klor. Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership. Known as 'The Quiet Death' as a Dark Jedi, due to her cautious nature and inclination to strike from the shadows. Agreed to betray Darth Revan in the Deralian trap with Arran Da'klor, Malak Devari and Bandon Stone.
Rab Vooktari [male, OC]: Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership. Died sometime during Revan's war against the Republic.
Revan Freeflight [Human, female]: Grew up in poverty on Talshion, little-known planet along the Outer Rim. Reputed to be the most powerful Force-user found in centuries together with Malak Devari. Recruited to the Jedi Order six years beyond the usually accepted guideline of ten Standard years. Although already notorious within the Jedi Order, Revan Freeflight shot to galactic fame when she thwarted the Jedi High Council and joined the Republic war effort against the Mandalorian invasion, bringing twelve experienced Jedi Knights who followed her - and, later, many more. Revan was promoted to the position of Supreme Commander of the Republic Forces, and was considered to be instrumental in turning the tide of war around to culminate in a Republic victory at Malachor V. Revan, along with a fair swathe of the Republic Fleet and near-all of her Jedi allies, disappeared for months after the final battle. It was widely believed the missing forces were engaged in mopping up the remnants of the Mandalorian Clans along the Outer Rim, right up until a surprise attack shocked the Republic and the galaxy alike - and hailed the birth of Darth Revan, a self-proclaimed Sith Lord set on conquering the Republic. Darth Revan then launched a war of attrition against a stunned and battle-weary Republic. Revan is believed to have died above Deralia, either due to her Shadow Hand Darth Malak firing on her ship, or the actions of Jedi Padawan Bastila Shan who was duelling her at the time.
Talvon Esan [Human, male]: Half-Telosian, half-Onderonite, Talvon Esan became a formidable Fleet Commander. Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership. Regarded as an expert duellist. Executed by Darth Revan due to rumours of insanity, after the botch-up on Telos.
Yudan Rosh [Twi'lek, male, OC]: Royal native of Kala'uun, Ryloth. Recruited to the Jedi Order two years beyond the usually accepted guideline of ten Standard years. Informally trained Revan Freeflight and later Malak Devari in lightsaber combat during their padawan years. Along with Revan, Malak and Meetra, Yudan was one of the four most famous knights in the Jedi Thirteen. Regarded as a master duellist and one of Revan's best Fleet Commanders, particularly against the Mandalorian Fett advances. Turned to the Dark Side under Revan's leadership.
Xaset Terep [Human, male]: Regarded as a formidable ground general during the Mandalorian Wars. Xaset Terep and Meetra Surik were pivotal to the destruction of Malachor V that ended the Mandalorian Wars. Having not been sighted publicly since then, both Jedi are presumed dead by the galaxy at large, but still hailed as heroes of the Republic due to their actions and leadership during the Mandalorian Wars.

Historical figures - The Mandalorian Wars - Other:
Arren Kae [Human, female]: Jedi Master and member of the Coruscant High Temple who engaged in a forbidden love affair with the Echani General Yusanis. Gave up her daughter to remain with the Jedi, but was later thrown out when she changed her mind.
Cassus Fett [male]: Head of the Fett Clan, and second-in-charge to Mandalore the Ultimate, Cassus led a number of decisive victories against the Republic. Died during Malachor V.
Dereck [male, OC]: Mandalorian commander who was second to Mandalore the Ultimate in his duel against Revan Freeflight.
Kreia [Human, female]: Master of the Force who swore allegiance to Supreme Commander Revan Freeflight during the Republic-Mandalorian battle at Duros. Advised both Supreme Commander Revan and Darth Revan, before later disappearing of her own free will.
Mandalore the Ultimate [Taung, male]: Mandalore of the Mandalorians, died in an honour duel against Revan Freeflight on Malachor V.
Morgana Onasi nee Balon [Human, female]: Wife of Carth Onasi who died during the bombing of Telos.

Historical figures - Revan Freeflight's youth:
Devari [Human, male, OC]: Older half-brother to Malak, only guardian of Malak when he was young. Presumed dead after he was captured by the Enforcers on Talshion. Revan gave Malak his brother's name as a surname when they left Talshion.
Freeflight [Human, male, OC]: A blind middle-aged man who was the only guardian to Revan when she was young, and taught her meditation, history, politics and most of all - to dream. Died of septa-lung disease a few years before Revan was found by travelling Force-users. Revan took his name as her surname when she left Talshion.
Jonohl [Twi'lek, male, OC]: Childhood friend of Revan and Malak. Oldest friend of Revan, who also taught her Ryl.
Ness [female, OC]: Childhood friend of Revan and Malak.
Staria [female, OC]: Childhood friend of Revan and Malak.

Historical figures - Exar Kun's War:
Andur Sunrider [Human, male]: Jedi Knight who trained under Master Thon. Went against tradition by marrying, a custom that was being more and more frowned upon in the Jedi Order. Died during a Jedi mission, leaving his wife Nomi Sunrider alone with their baby Vima. The Force awoke in Nomi during this time, and she was then trained by Master Thon.
Exar Kun [Human, male]: Powerful Jedi Knight who later led a war against the Jedi and the Republic as a self-proclaimed Sith Lord. The first to use the name Sith in centuries. Killed at the close of his own war.
Nayama Bindo nee Da-Boda [Human, female]: Sister to Nomi Sunrider. Married Jolee Bindo and the Force bloomed in her unusually late. Was tempted by the teachings of Exar Kun when the Jedi High Council refused to teach her, and later fell to the Dark Side. Her fate remains unknown after the fall of Exar Kun.
Nomi Sunrider nee Da-Boda [Human, female]: Married the Jedi Knight Andur Sunrider. The Force bloomed in her late, despite her adult age, upon her husband's death when she was protecting her newborn daughter Vima. Rediscovered the lost art of battle meditation, and was instrumental to the Republic's success against Exar Kun. Stripped Ulic Qel-Droma of the Force after he killed his twin brother. Died many years later of septa-lung disease.
Thon [male]: Jedi Master of Dantooine who decided to train Nomi Sunrider against Jedi convention (due to Nomi's adult age). The Coruscanti High Council, in contrast, refused to train Nomi's sister Nayama who also awoke late in the Force. Some saw this as hypocritical; while others saw Master Thon's actions as bordering on seditious. When Nomi Sunrider rediscovered battle meditation and became a rallying point and galactic heroine, the Coruscanti High Council's disapproval of her training died down. By that stage, Nayama Bindo had already disappeared.
Ulic Qel-Droma [Human, male]: Powerful Jedi Knight and twin brother to Cay Qel-Droma. Lover of Nomi Sunrider. Later fell to the Dark Side when attempting to infiltrate Exar Kun's forces and was captured. Stripped of the Force by Nomi and exiled by the Jedi Order despite the Republic Senate's demands for him to be put on trial.

Historical figures - Ancient Sith Lords:
Ludo Kressh [male]: Powerful Sith Lord who was at loggerheads with Naga Sadow, and seen as the more cautious of the two with an interest in relics.
Naga Sadow [male]: Powerful Sith Lord who was at loggerheads with Ludo Kressh.
Tulak Hord [male]:  Known as the 'Master of Hate', he discovered the ability to drain life from sentients and increase his own life-span.

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Starships of note:
Astral Pride - a Dreadnought -class heavy cruiser often referred to simply as a 'dreadnought'. One of the Republic's most prominent command ships, and helmed by Admiral Rickard Gant.
Ebon Hawk – a Dynamic- class freighter owned by the Exchange crime lord on Taris, Davik Kang. With an upgraded sublight drive and hyperdrive, a customised navicomputer and reinforced hull, this smuggling vessel can outperform near-all freighters of similar size and core specifications.
Endar Spire – a Hammerhead -class cruiser serving with the Republic Navy, and helmed by commanding navi-advisor Captain Carth Onasi - although full commanding privileges rest with the squad of Jedi stationed onboard.
Invictus – a Destroyer- class warship that was regaled as Darth Malak's flagship, and outfitted with experimental stealth technology.
Leviathan – an Interdictor- class heavy cruiser noted for its defensive clout , planetary-range turbo-lasers, and hyperspace-interdicting capability. One of Darth Malak's prominent command ships, and helmed by Admiral Saul Karath.
Lightstar – a Dreadnought -class heavy cruiser often referred to simply as a 'dreadnought'. One of the Republic's most prominent command ships. Commanding privileges currently rest with General Adashan.
Meridus – a Dreadnought -class heavy cruiser often referred to simply as a 'dreadnought'. The Meridus has been customised to include hyperspace-interdicting capability. One of the Republic's most prominent command ships, and helmed by Admiral Forn Dodonna.
Nexus – a Destroyer- class warship that was regaled as Darth Revan's flagship. Destroyed above Deralia by a sneak attack from the Invictus.
Ruby's Claw – a medium-sized Hyperion-class troop carrier. This model of carrier was seen as a hybrid between a frigate and a freighter, and often used to transport small squads of ground troops into and out of warzones. Helmed by Republic Captain Jordo Merrix.

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Mando'a Glossary:
aay'hen - bittersweet remembrance - of joy, celebration and mourning
*aay'hen fest - festival of remembrance, of feasting and toasting to ones lost in combat, and singing their battle songs
ad'ika - kid, boy/girl, darling, pet name for child of one's clan
*akaanir dala - a matriarchal, quasi-clan of warrior women who have left their clan and eschew the raising of children. (lit. fight woman)
aruetii - outsider
beskar – Mandalorian iron, or sometimes short for beskar’gam
beskar’gam – Mandalorian armour suit made from beskar
chakaar - corpse robber
dar'jetii - Forsworn or Dark Jedi
*de haa'taylir be ka'ra, galar be ner tal, bal nuhoy be vheh, ner ijaat sonsol ti ibic Mando'ade - by the witnessing of the stars, the shedding of my blood, and the resting of the earth, my honour stands in agreement with this Mando'ade. (traditional phrase for a second to use in a blood duel)
di'kut - idiot
ge'hutuun - bandit, petty thief, low criminal
haar'chak - damn it!
hu'tuun - coward, cowardly
ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - today is a good day for someone else to die
ik'aad - toddler, young child
jetii - Jedi
*kar'tayl gar aru'e - Understand your enemy (lit. know/awareness, you/your, enemy)
*kar’taylir sah ad – I/To hold in the heart like a daughter
laandur - weak, fragile
Mand'alor - Title of the overall leader of all Mandalorians
Mando'a - Mandalorian language
Mando'ad draar digu - a Mandalorian never forgets
Mando'ade - sentient vowed to the Mandalorian way
mir'osik - dung for brains
ne'johaa - shut up
olarom - welcome, greeting
ori'vod - big brother, older brother, someone you look up to
osik - dung
rangir - to hell with it
ret'urcye mhi – goodbye (lit. maybe we’ll meet again)
shabuir - jerk
su'cuy - hello
su cuy'gar - hello, after a separation (lit. I see you're not dead.)
utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. empty head)
vod - brother, clan-brother, someone you see as a brother
vor'e - thanks, thank you

* phrases created solely for this fic, although they contain words from canonical Mando'a. Everything else is taken directly from canonical Mando'a online.

xXx

Chapter POV listing:

Chap No: Title: POV:
Chapter 001 Prologue & Author's Notes, Character Glossary, Mando'a Glossary, Chapter Listing n/a
Chapter 002 Hyperspace: I Neann Dallash, Carth Onasi, Neann Dallash, Bastila Shan, Neann Dallash, Jen Sahara, Neann Dallash
Chapter 003 Broken Recollections Jen Sahara
Chapter 004 The art of convincing Carth Onasi
Chapter 005 Battling one's thoughts Jen Sahara
Chapter 006 Blaster Boy Carth Onasi
Chapter 007 Tricks of the mind Jen Sahara
Chapter 008 Restless Mission Vao
Chapter 009 Control Jen Sahara
Chapter 010 Into the dark Carth Onasi
Chapter 011 A pair of sneaks Jen Sahara
Chapter 012 Rescue Zaalbar
Chapter 013 The Vulkars' guard Jen Sahara
Chapter 014 A deal Mission Vao
Chapter 015 Race day Jen Sahara
Chapter 016 Resolve Bastila Shan
Chapter 017 Mandalorian gambit Jen Sahara
Chapter 018 Journey of the mind Zelka Forn
Chapter 019 Infiltration Jen Sahara
Chapter 020 A plan of action Canderous Ordo
Chapter 021 Hyperspace: II Zaalbar, Malak Devari, Mission Vao, Davik Kang, Jen Sahara, Carth Onasi, Canderous Ordo, Zelka Forn, Bastila Shan, Calo Nord
Chapter 022 Refuge denied Carth Onasi
Chapter 023 Compulsion Bastila Shan
Chapter 024 Past relations Zaalbar
Chapter 025 Acquiring: Master HK-47
Chapter 026 Fallen to the darkness Juhani
Chapter 027 A turning point Jen Sahara
Chapter 028 Half truths and part lies Bastila Shan
Chapter 029 Into the dunes Jen Sahara
Chapter 030 A discovery Canderous Ordo
Chapter 031 A darker turn of mind Jen Sahara
Chapter 032 Sibling loyalty Mission Vao
Chapter 033 Hyperspace: III - part one Bastila Shan, Calo Nord, Canderous Ordo, Mission Vao, Overseer Eridius Talav, Zaalbar
Chapter 034 Hyperspace: III - part two Carth Onasi, HK-47, Karon Enova, Juhani, Saul Karath, Yudan Rosh, Jen Sahara
Chapter 035 Desperate Measures Jen Sahara
Chapter 036 Rescuers Zaalbar
Chapter 037 On the run Jen Sahara
Chapter 038 Jedi Talk Karon Enova
Chapter 039 Echoes of the past Jen Sahara
Chapter 040 Into the deep Juhani
Chapter 041 Objective: Evacuate HK-47
Chapter 042 The power of a name Jen Sahara
Chapter 043 Neutrality be damned Carth Onasi
Chapter 044 The horror unfolds Bastila Shan
Chapter 045 No more running Jen Sahara
Chapter 046 Topside Canderous Ordo
Chapter 047 Hyperspace: IV - part one Roland Wann, Juhani, Lars Thorstan, Kylah Aramai, Zaalbar, Spymaster Gaalin, Jen Sahara, Bastila Shan
Chapter 048 Hyperspace: IV - part two HK-47, Canderous Ordo, Belaya Linn, Mission Vao, Bandon Stone, Carth Onasi, Uthar Wynn
Chapter 049 Past and present challenges Jen Sahara
Chapter 050 A scout around Mission Vao
Chapter 051 Conversations with the crew Bastila Shan
Chapter 052 Dark Side doubts Dustil Onasi
Chapter 053 A fractured mind Jen Sahara
Chapter 054 An old friend Juhani
Chapter 055 Brushes with death Jen Sahara
Chapter 056 Blood duel Canderous Ordo
Chapter 057 Torture's victim Jen Sahara / Ness Jonohl
Chapter 058 A trustworthy stranger Zaalbar
Chapter 059 Tracking the crew Carth Onasi
Chapter 060 Targeting: Fetid Cave-Dweller HK-47
Chapter 061 Flashpoint Jen Sahara / Ness Jonohl
Chapter 062 A master's betrayal Dak Vesser
Chapter 063 Showdown Jen Sahara / Ness Jonohl
Chapter 064 Hyperspace: V - part one Juhani, Belaya Linn, Yuthura Ban, Mekel Kadoni, Data analyst Ajax Zarr, Carth Onasi, Canderous Ordo, Kel Algwinn, Yudan Rosh
Chapter 065 Hyperspace: V - part two Dustil Onasi, Zhar Lestin, Zaalbar, Dak Vesser, Jen Sahara / Ness Jonohl, Nisotsa Organa, Mission Vao, Atris Surik, Bastila Shan
Chapter 066 A false name Jen Sahara / Ness Jonohl
Chapter 067 Apologies Dustil Onasi
Chapter 068 To be a Jedi Juhani
Chapter 069 Secrets and small talk Jen Sahara
Chapter 070 Brotherhood Zaalbar
Chapter 071 A shifting in the shadows Jen Sahara
Chapter 072 Analysing: Holo-Map HK-47
Chapter 073 The merge Jen Sahara
Chapter 074 Exodus Mission Vao
Chapter 075 For what is real Revan Freeflight
Chapter 076 A second encounter Jolee Bindo
Chapter 077 Conviction Revan Freeflight
Chapter 078 Clan and honour Canderous Ordo
Chapter 079 Breaking Chains Bastila Shan
Chapter 080 Homecoming Zaalbar
Chapter 081 Flight Carth Onasi
Chapter 082 Hyperspace: VI - part one Nisotsa Organa, Forn Dodonna, Revan Freeflight, Rulan Prolik, Canderous Ordo, Bastila Shan
Chapter 083 Hyperspace: VI - part two Saul Karath, Dustil Onasi, Revan Freeflight, HK-47, Kylah Aramai, Mission Vao
Chapter 084 Hyperspace: VI - part three Carth Onasi, Kavar Kira, Vrook Lamar, Revan Freeflight
Chapter 085 Hyperspace: VI - part four Revan Freeflight
Chapter 086 Hyperspace: VI - part five Jolee Bindo, Davis Tar'coya, Juhani, Revan Freeflight, Suvam Tan
Chapter 087 Hyperspace: VI - part six Zaalbar, Yudan Rosh, Revan Freeflight
Chapter 088 Hyperspace: VI - part seven Mekel Kadoni, Malak Devari, Revan Freeflight
Chapter 089 Friendships Mission Vao
Chapter 090 Overlay Revan Freeflight
Chapter 091 Faith Carth Onasi
Chapter 092 Shadows of history Juhani
Chapter 093 An abrupt awakening Jolee Bindo
Chapter 094 Intermesh Revan Freeflight
Chapter 095 The greater good Bastila Shan
Chapter 096 Intersect Revan Freeflight
Chapter 097 Chase Canderous Ordo
Chapter 098 Precipice Revan Freeflight
Chapter 099 Primary Objective: Locate And Defend Master HK-47
Chapter 100 Aftermath Revan Freeflight
Chapter 101 Sunrise Yudan Rosh
Chapter 102 Reckless Vrook Lamar
Chapter 103 Nexus: Convergence Bastila Shan, Zez-Kai Ell, Malak Devari, Jordo Merrix, Revan Freeflight
Chapter 104 Nexus: Advent Sharlan Nox, Jolee Bindo, Rulan Prolik, Revan Freeflight, Vrook Lamar
Chapter 105 Nexus: Furtherance Revan Freeflight, Mission Vao, Canderous Ordo, Jaq, HK-47
Chapter 106 Nexus: Shatterpoint Carth Onasi, Inon Daelidar, Sammy Tobards, Revan Freeflight, Dustil Onasi, Bastila Shan.
Chapter 107 Nexus: Catharsis Zaalbar, Yudan Rosh, Bastila Shan, Forn Dodonna, Revan Freeflight
Chapter 108 Nexus: Fulcrum - part one Revan Freeflight, Canderous Ordo, Revan Freeflight, Mission Vao, Revan Freeflight, Bastila Shan, Revan Freeflight, Zaalbar
Chapter 109 Nexus: Fulcrum - part two Revan Freeflight, Jolee Bindo, Revan Freeflight, Dustil Onasi, Revan Freeflight, Carth Onasi, Revan Freeflight, Yudan Rosh, Revan Freeflight
Chapter 110 Nexus: Bonds Revan Freeflight
Chapter 111 Nexus: Dissonance Sharlan Nox, Dustil Onasi, Inon Daelidar, Mission Vao, Davis Tar'coya, Jolee Bindo, Rulan Prolik, Carth Onasi, Yudan Rosh, Revan Freeflight
Chapter 112 Nightfall Revan Freeflight
Chapter 113 Hyperspace: VII - part one Canderous Ordo, Forn Dodonna, Eridius Talav, Carth Onasi, Yuthura Ban, Kavar Kira, Yudan Rosh, Meetra Surik, Atton Rand
Chapter 114 Hyperspace: VII - part two Vima Sunrider, Dustil Onasi, Selene, Sharlan Nox, HK-47, Lena Torand, Zaerdra Leno, Mission Vao, Revan Freeflight
tbc Chapter 115 Hyperspace: VII - part three (Multi-POV)
tbc Chapter 116 Epilogue & Author's Notes n/a

xXx

Disclaimer: Based on the computer game - Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. World/characters belong to Bioware / LucasArts, as does the game dialog I have incorporated throughout the saga. I lay claim to my own OC's, dialog and sub-plots that have come from the depths of my own murky imagination, although certainly some are inspired by the wealth of the Star Wars: KotOR fandom.

xXx

Chapter Text

Hyperspace: I

Neann Dallash:

"Ten points!" one of the soldiers crowed, his shiv-blade vibrating as it dug into a massive holo-poster pasted on the far wall. The tip of the shiv wedged into the torso of a smiling robed figure. "I got that bastard dead centre!"

I smirked, leaning back against a bulkhead as I surveyed the off-duty common room. A dozen or so Republic soldiers milled about, non-alcoholic beverages in hand, as they enjoyed a few hours respite before their next shift onboard the Hammerhead-class cruiser, the Endar Spire. Some hapless twit had tacked up an unauthorised poster of the Jedi Thirteen - the Jedi crusaders who'd been our heroes against the Mandalorians, back when our enemy was a horde of barbarians in beskar.

Back when we could still trust the Jedi.

"You wanna play, Neann?" the Rodian lounging next to me asked in passable Basic, one antenna twitching.

His name's Tal Jonson, my mind supplied. Ensign, two years' service, ground trooper. Recruited after his homeworld was bombed and his family killed. No black marks on his record.

In my line of work, it paid to remember the details.

"I'm happy to watch," I replied, taking a sip of the fruity fizz-pop the Endar Spire supplied in lieu of alcohol. "I'm still trying to work out the point-scoring system."

The soldier next to the holo-poster retrieved his shiv, handing it hilt-first to his neighbour. Frankly, I was surprised to see any of those bootleg posters still around. The Jedi Order had been pretty adamant in their decreed blackout of what they referred to as 'illegal glorification of renegades not condoned by or associated with the Jedi Order in any way.'

Ah, but the Republic worlds had loved their renegade Jedi heroes, once. Without them, we'd likely all be speaking Mandalorian.

Without them, we wouldn't now be fighting a losing war against Darth Malak.

"It's not difficult," Tal burbled, large black eyes blinking at me. "Ten points for any torso hit, twenty for a head-shot. Double if it's one still alive, triple if it's Malak himself."

My gaze skimmed over the grandiose poster. Not like there's many of them left alive, thank the stars. Each figure stood tall and proud, most clad in the beige robes of the Order they'd spurned when they joined the Fleet.

"I'm gonna win this round," a nearby soldier boasted, shooting us a jaunty wink as he took a step closer. A second man followed more slowly in his wake. "Hey, Neann. Is Tal roping you in for a game?"

I eyed over the newcomers, a perfunctory smile pasted on my face as the first one slumped inelegantly against the durasteel wall. Dakkos Bal'lal, my mind whispered. Ensign, three years' service, snubfighter co-pilot. Comes from a military family in the Core, and has a propensity to indulge in gree-spice when on leave. Easier to ingratiate myself with the grunts, when I already had some inkling of their background.

"Yeah," I offered. "Seems like harmless enough fun."

The other Human in his shadow gave us a brief smile, tipping his head in silent greeting. Trask Ulgo. Ensign, seven years' service, ground trooper. Classified records, but the crypt-keys hide nothing of note other than a commendation for bravery. Odd he's still languishing as an ensign. Also, of note: Ulgo is one of the select signed onto the Jedi detail.

Someone groaned, loudly, and my attention was drawn back to the far wall. A spattering of sniggers resounded through the room, and my gaze narrowed on the shiv-blade. It had caught on the shoulder of a holo-painted woman near the centre of the poster.

"Oh, that's right," Tal added, nudging me conspiratorially. "Minus ten if you get one who died against the Mandos. They never turned into traitorous bastards, eh?"

"Meetra Surik," I murmured, staring at the image of the blonde Human. She wore a beatific smile, having been stylized with an almost ethereal golden hue around her proud figure. I let my lips curve with fond nostalgia that wasn't feigned. "I used to have a crush on her, back during the Mando Wars."

There was a stifled grunt from the quiet Trask – I couldn't tell if it was from surprise or agreement – while Dakkos snorted in dismissal. "Nah, Nisotsa was the hottest of the Thirteen. Meetra didn't have anything on her."

Ah, but you never saw them in the flesh. I'd met Meetra Surik, once. Holo-stills didn't encapsulate the gentle grace and calm confidence the older woman had exuded.

"Never seen the appeal in Human flesh myself," Tal muttered. "So big and beefy. I mean-" He cut himself short, shooting Dakkos an embarrassed glance as he rubbed a hand through the bristling hairs on his green scalp. "Er, no offense Dak-"

Dakkos sniggered over his words good-naturedly. "The day I see a Rodian and a Human together is the day I dig my own eyeballs out with a spork." His gaze slid to mine. "Zabraks and Humans are almost as weird, Neann."

I shrugged. A half-breed myself, I didn't see the point in quibbling over the delineation of species. Having held down a career as a silent operative most of my working life, I'd never had the inclination or opportunity for any relationship beyond the most primitive. Far as I was concerned, as long as all parties were willing, it was nobody's business but theirs.

"Dakkos!" someone called. "You're up!"

"Watch this," Dakkos bragged. "I'm gonna get that chivhole Malak dead-centre." He shot us all an easy grin, before swaggering back towards the centre of the room.

"He's never won yet," Tal muttered in an aside. "Good thing he's not a gunner, with his crap aim. Mark my words, he'll flub his throw somehow."

"I'm gonna take down Darth Malak!" Dakkos yelled, before wrenching his arm back to throw the shiv-blade. I watched the arc of the weapon with a half-smile, tracing its trajectory towards the centre of the poster.

The shiv quivered as it missed Malak by mere inches. Instead, its point dug deep into the faceless mask of the central figure.

A loud cheer resounded throughout the room.

"And right into the brain," Trask muttered. I glanced sideways, to see an odd grimace twisting his broad face. He was staring fixedly at the poster, eyes narrowed.

Tal, on the other hand, was cackling gleefully. "Forgot to mention what happens when you land on Revan. Get that piece of betraying scum, and you owe everyone in the room a beer. Well, a fizz-pop, but we can pretend, right?"

Revan Freeflight. Darth Revan. Revan Freeflight had directed the Republic forces as Supreme Commander, against the Mandalorians. Darth Revan had started the current war by leading the vanguard against the Republic. Now Revan was dead, and Malak was the evil bastard out there burning our worlds in the name of the misbegotten Sith.

"Hah! That makes it your round, Dakkos!" someone gloated. "Pay up!"

My eyes narrowed on the flamboyant poster as Dakkos pulled out his shiv with a rueful shrug. The artist had taken definite liberties. Every figure, no matter the species or gender, stared righteously into the room. In the middle of the fallen heroes stood the now-defaced form of Revan, a spectre of mystery the other rogue Jedi cloistered around. Cloaked and masked, Revan was brandishing a single lightsaber that flared golden above all their heads. Not accurate, for I knew the dead Sith Lord had always used two.

Still, the sweeping brushstrokes of holo-paint represented how the galaxy had once seen the Jedi Thirteen. They really had been larger-than-life heroes: saviours of the Republic, defenders of the innocent, guardians of the peace. Revan's Guard of Twelve, the Fleet used to call them, honouring Revan above all.

If only they'd all died at Malachor V.

The hatch behind me opened with a pneumatic hiss.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me-" a voice grumbled. I turned, to see an exasperated expression on the face of Captain Carth Onasi, Republic leader of the Endar Spire.

He was staring hard at the offending holo-poster. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

Ah, crap. Can't think he's going to approve of this type of off-duty entertainment.

The hum of genial conversation slowly stuttered into silence. A Bothan standing next to Dakkos gave him a rough nudge, before jerking his head in the direction of the hatch. Dakkos turned, his swarthy Human face twisting in sudden embarrassment.

"Get that poster down," Onasi ordered, striding into the room. "Have you lot forgotten who's in command of this ship?"

"Er-" Dakkos muttered, his gaze sliding away from the irate captain. The sheepish silence of a dozen grunts mulling over their actions hung thick in the air.

The Endar Spire was a Republic cruiser, but Captain Onasi didn't hold true command. One of the reasons I was here was to find out exactly why the Jedi Order had appropriated jurisdiction of this starship. And exactly what manner of ruins they planned investigating once we reached the desert world of Tatooine.

Mystics and their damn secrets. The Jedi Order were heavily embroiled in our war against Darth Malak's Sith Empire. Flipside of the previous war, when the Order had refused any sort of direct involvement, leaving it up to Revan and the rest of the Jedi Thirteen to aid the Republic against the Mandalorian threat.

The brass hadn't forgotten. Revan Freeflight's name might be black as tar-mud now, but once Revan had been the first to join us, to lead us, to throw the mighty power of the Force behind the Republic front.

Once, the Jedi Thirteen had been heroes.

"If one of the Jedi onboard walk in here and see that blasted poster, your ears will be ringing into next week." Captain Onasi folded his arms as he levelled a stern expression at Dakkos, who was artlessly trying to conceal the shiv-blade behind his back.

"Sorry, sir," Dakkos muttered, free hand reaching up to pull at the holo-poster. It crackled as he unceremoniously ripped a large segment of it clear from the wall.

I couldn't deny a flare of inner satisfaction as I saw Malak's holo-form torn haphazardly in half.

"Easy, soldier," Captain Onasi grumbled, his voice calming as his gaze roamed the room. "I won't begrudge you downtime. Just be mindful that we report to the Jedi. Revan's Guard used to be their people. No one likes a reminder of traitors, even in harmless fun."

There was a general murmur of agreement around the room. Captain Onasi was seen as a fair sort around the Endar Spire, sharp under pressure and well-liked by most. This was an odd posting for the likes of him, but I hadn't heard any of the grunts remark on it. No doubt they're too busy wondering why the Jedi are calling the shots to think on his recent transfer.

The man himself turned to face me, brown eyes shadowed with the heaviness of war.

"Lieutenant? I'd like a word."

I nodded in compliance, and slipped out of the room behind him.

xXx

Carth Onasi:

Lieutenant Neann Dallash stood at ease, an expression of mild deference pasted on his lightly ridged face. Dallash was my senior navi-pilot; a man both competent and experienced. He was the type of officer sharp enough to do his job, benign enough to stay out of trouble, and genial enough that every soldier underneath him agreed he was a good sort.

If only he didn't turn into a love-struck imbecile in front of Jedi Bastila Shan-

I reached over my private desk to disable the room's surveillance. Holding back a sigh, I suddenly felt every parsec of my thirty-eight Core-standard years.

"We're exiting hyperspace in four hours, Lieutenant," I said, getting straight to the point. "It's time you knew our intermediary destination."

This blasted mission had been a covert one from the start. The squad of robes onboard let slip nothing I hadn't already been briefed on, but it was their jittery behaviour that put me on edge. Sure, Jedi were well-known for being cryptic and mysterious, but this lot had ramped it up a notch, with the way they kept jumping at shadows and snapping at anyone who dared linger in their proximity.

"Sir," Lieutenant Dallash acknowledged in a neutral tone.

Dallash wasn't the sort to dig for reasons why I'd kept our docking point classified; I was glad of that, at least. The Jedi had put so much emphasis on secrecy that I was starting to doubt everyone. "We're docking at Mavis III."

"Mavis III," the half-Zabrak echoed, brow ridges lowering in thought. I wondered how long it would take him- "Taris," he breathed. "That's- that's a tad on the risky side?"

Yeah. Yeah, it was.

"Not my call," I bit out, trying to edge my tone into impartiality. Mavis III was a neutral docking station run by the Exchange, but its proximity to Taris hardly made me leap for joy. Still, orders were orders, and we simply had to make the best of them. "Mavis III is the most direct route to Tatooine. Yes, Taris is Sith-controlled, but more in name than any meaningful force, these days. Our signature's forged, we should be in and out of the sector before any alarm is raised. The Exchange might sell our docking info later, but we'll be long gone by then."

Lieutenant Dallash hummed, his dark gaze clouding in thought.

The Endar Spire was flagged as a support and supply cruiser; even should the Sith learn our identity and location, the 'Spire wouldn't be seen as a particularly tantalizing prize. Not unless they found out who was really onboard.

The Jedi may have concealed their presence for the first few days of hypertravel, but hiding a famous war figure like Jedi Padawan Bastila Shan was always going to be a losing game against time.

Near-on three hundred souls onboard with a fistful of Jedi. Who thought this was a good idea again?

The Jedi. The blasted Jedi. Couldn't they actually disclose their objectives and work with us in good faith for once?

Admiral Dodonna believed whatever they were up to might be instrumental in the war we were slowly losing. I doubted the greying Admiral had little more to go on than the faith of the Jedi Masters - and sure, the Jedi often had a trick or two up their robed sleeves, but they also had a tendency to get blindsided by the more practical and visceral elements of war.

Or, fall, and turn into murdering Sith bastards.

"Who else knows our refuelling point, sir?"

"The Jedi. Myself. Now, you." I sighed. "Report to the bridge in two hours, Lieutenant. I need the sharpest dock and refuel you can manage. Frankly, I won't be resting easy until we're enroute to Tatooine."

"Yes, sir." Lieutenant Dallash snapped out a tight salute. "Is that all, sir?"

I felt my mouth twitch. Neann Dallash was a likeable sort, but he'd rather embarrassed himself last time the Jedi had infiltrated the main bridge. "Don't talk to the Jedi, Lieutenant. Commander Shan already believes you're a blundering idiot. I'd rather not be forced to list your credentials again."

"Sir." Dallash bowed his head in overt contrition, his chagrin stark enough that I regretted my words. But he'd made a right fool of himself over the uptight young Jedi, clumsily stumbling into her and stuttering like an awed greenhorn. Out of character, for an experienced officer like him. Ah, well. I've seen enough soldiers turn into halfwits over a pretty face. I expect Dallash will keep his head down, now.

"Wait a minute." The lieutenant shot me a sharp look, all traces of discomfort gone. "Sir. Did you just say commander?"

"I did." I felt my mouth tighten, and leaned over to toss a datapad across the table. "Read this."

Dallash's frowning countenance focused on the utilitarian datapad. I gave him a minute to digest the official command order - the order that'd been signed off by the Jedi Master leading the six-man squad of robes on board.

"Sir." Dallash's head lifted, fixing me with an intent look. "This is dated four days ago."

"Yes." The word was almost a growl. I'd been giving the Jedi a chance to redact the damn order, but, just like with everything else, they were intractable.

The Jedi here consisted of one master, a quartet of seasoned knights, and a lone padawan who was as gifted as she was inexperienced and socially awkward. And now, inexplicably, she was also in possession of full commanding privileges over a cruiser from the Republic Navy.

Again, I fought hard against showing my distaste of the whole mission. Too many things just weren't adding up. Even Commander Shan had looked like she'd swallowed a sour-plum when that master informed me of the change in manifest command.

Dallash placed the datapad back on the hardened plasticeel table-top. "Is she going to be snapping out orders on the bridge, sir?"

"From what I've been told, Lieutenant, Jedi Master Galdea will retain command in actuality." Which made the directive nonsensical - it had the feeling of a technicality, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it's a sop to Shan's famous battle meditation. But, then, why had the Jedi Order sent Bastila Shan out on a clandestine operation, when her talents would be far better put to use on the frontlines?

I had no idea, and the Jedi certainly weren't enlightening me. Admiral Dodonna was going to be highly unimpressed at my next grilling, and for the umpteenth time I wished she hadn't pulled me out of a snubfighter to place me here.

"That will be all, Lieutenant." I gave the man a perfunctory nod. "I'll see you on the bridge in two hours."

Lieutenant Dallash cracked out another efficient salute, before turning on his heel and departing silently.

xXx

Neann Dallash:

Two hours to do some much-needed digging.

I stepped out of my private quarters; mind clear, an automatic smile on my face, and one hand slipping a modified datapad into a pocket.

Stars, but I wished Onasi had briefed me earlier. It'd been an irritation, not knowing our refuelling point until now, but I'd held back from running my own routines in the 'Spire's navi-system. My portfolio didn't require those details, and I'd been ordered to follow Onasi's lead.

The inane command order from the Jedi, however- that would have been useful to learn four days ago. If only Onasi knew we reported to the same person, then he might've been more forthcoming.

"As far as everyone onboard is concerned, you are simply the Endar Spire's senior navi-pilot." Admiral Forn Dodonna's expression had been stern, the last time we'd spoken in person. "Captain Onasi is a good man, and a good front. The Jedi will see him exactly as what he believes he is: my agent to find out what they are up to."

Captain Onasi was a good man. I'd read his dossier numerous times before boarding the 'Spire, and already had his personality pegged. Commended for valour during the Mandalorian Wars, he was a staunch Republic loyalist with a strong moral code and a streak of honesty that would hinder him climbing much further up the officer ranks.

Onasi had adapted well to his assumed role of advising the 'Spire's navi-pilots and leading the troops onboard, while failing spectacularly at drawing any information from the closed-mouthed Jedi. He'd be highly pissed if he knew the truth: he was no more than a feint, a distraction for the Jedi to dodge, while I did the discreet digging.

Which I have little time to do before we spit out next to Mavis III.

I glanced down at the chronometer on my wrist, a shiny alusteel replica of a famous Coruscanti brand. The latest model from Republic Intelligence, it housed a hidden processor that could interface with my ocular implants, and send intel directly to my retina.

With a tap on the pretend chron, a set of tracking coordinates flared briefly in my vision.

::Starboard training sector, blue corridor, floor 4E.::

I began walking.

It was my batch-routine in the 'Spire's surveillance system throwing Shan's last known public location to me. No audio, though. With the lack of holo-cams in the Jedi quarters, and the fact that my discretely placed comm-tracker had shorted out with Shan's last sonic ablution, I was blinder than I was comfortable with.

Hadn't harvested much before the comm-tracker bit the dust, either. Padawan Shan recited the Jedi Code a pinch too obsessively, Knight Seris had a disturbing interest in parasitic diseases, and Master Galdea's pep talks were about as riveting as a holo-doc on bantha farming.

Still, there'd been two words of note. Two words I'd caught in an uttered aside from Shan, before Galdea had shushed her. Star Map. It sounded like a kid's astrological project, but it was Galdea's immediate censure that piqued my interest.

It'd be going into my next wire to Dodonna - and I had to hope the lead made up for Shan now viewing me as a stumbling oaf enraptured by her presence. Her vexation at my clumsiness served its purpose, though: Shan had been too busy sticking her nose in the air to notice the bug I'd slipped into her ornamental hair-braids.

I couldn't chance playing the same trick twice, and especially not around that chubby master. Dry and dusty Galdea might be, but I hadn't missed the sharp glance he'd thrown my way the last time we met. If I could just catch Shan alone-

My thoughts flat-lined into nothing as a pair of brown-clad Jedi slowly cleared the corner ahead and strolled in my direction. Two women; both young, attractive and wearing identical expressions of serenity. The one leading the pair looked up at my approach, red lips pursing in recognition.

Jedi Knight Kylah Aramai. The name rose in my mind, but I kept it small. Always paid to keep the thoughts hidden, around Force-users. Human, suspected mix of Mirialan ancestry given the yellowing skin and tawny eyes. Well-known spokesperson and confidant of Bastila Shan.

My eyes slid to her companion: the battle meditation champion herself.

I ducked my head, stumbling to a stop within arms-reach.

"Master Jedi," I squeaked. "Er, it is good to see you." I let my gaze rise to Shan's, before dropping it deliberately back to the grilled flooring. "Can I- can I help you in any way?"

"I am a knight, soldier," Kylah Aramai drawled. Her tone lilted with amusement. "And I am certain you must be aware that Bastila is a padawan."

"Lieutenant," Bastila Shan acknowledged. Her enunciation was crisp, cold and stiff. "We do not require any assistance."

"I, ah, I was looking for you," I admitted, running one hand briefly over my fore-horns, while the other fingered the datapad in my pocket. "Captain Onasi has informed me of your change in rank. I have a set of operating protocols for you to peruse - at your leisure, of course."

The ice on Shan's face hardened further as I pulled out the standard-issue datapad, now loaded with all manner of Republic Navy procedures and policies. Let her take the implication this was Onasi's doing - if he called me on it, I would merely bluff it out as the initiative of the hopelessly enamoured.

"This is hardly necessary, Lieutenant." The frost in her voice could've frozen a Zeltron in heat.

"Er, sorry, it's just that it's standard operating procedure, Master Jedi- or, or should I call you ma'am, now?"

"No!" she snapped, before her eyes closed briefly in defeat. A thin hand rose to snatch the proffered datapad. "Fine," she managed in a carefully modulated voice. I had the distinct feeling she was biting back curses. "I shall review it when I have time. Thank you."

Somehow, I doubted Shan would get past the first twenty pages of dry discourse, but so long as the datapad made its way to the Jedi quarters I'd have one more set of ears to scan. The bug nestled in the 'pad's processor emitted on a low frequency that wouldn't be picked up by any orthodox scanner.

"I, er, understand we'll be briefed on the main bridge shortly," I continued, allowing a hopeful smile to emerge. "I can offer you an escort?"

A caustic snigger from Aramai rang down the corridor, one sec before Shan's porcelain skin flushed an embarrassed red. "I do not require anything from you, Lieutenant," she bit out, lips thinning. "In future, I would prefer it if you kept your distance and focused on your job."

"Yes, yes, of course," I mumbled, rubbing a hand over my face. "I- ah, I am sorry to have taken your time, Master Jedi."

Aramai snorted. "Come, Bastila. Let us move on before you completely short-circuit this one's brain."

I bowed my head in fake contrition as the Jedi departed. But, rather than following the amber sidings that eventually led to the command deck, I saw them turn sharply into a side corridor. That leads to the crew quarters. I allowed a frown to form after the Jedi had disappeared from sight. It was an interesting destination, this close to a hyperspace exit.

Might be worth following up - although this time I'd wait until Shan had left the area. Somehow, I didn't think she'd appreciate yet another encounter with me.

xXx

Bastila Shan:

"It is hardly amusing, Kylah." My shoulders stiffened uncomfortably. Certainly, I had been acquainted with my fair share of Republic soldiers during my tenure, but most stayed a respectable distance away.

There was a barely repressed giggle from my oldest friend. Peace, but sometimes she behaved like five years my junior, rather than the opposite.

"That poor half-breed is completely smitten. I'm starting to think he's stalking you around the Endar Spire."

"Perish the thought," I muttered, earning another giggle from my erstwhile friend. At least the behaviour of that incompetent lieutenant halted any further tirades from Kylah. Master Vrook always admonished me to search for the silver linings, so to speak, and Kylah's terse enquiries into the true nature of our mission were becoming both tedious and awkward to deflect.

"He's right about one thing, though," Kylah continued, and already I felt myself tensing in apprehension. "You should be heading to the bridge. Honestly, you don't need to micromanage our support staff. Leave the underlings to Galdea."

"Master Galdea," I murmured. Avoiding Kylah's no-doubt exasperated eye-roll, I focused on placing one leaden foot ahead of the other. I had a duty, an obligation, a shackle on my soul that I dearly desired to share with my oldest friend- but I could not. "Are you certain you do not wish to accompany me on the bridge?"

Kylah snorted. It was odd, but her character had certainly devolved into something more irreverent of late. We are all tense, I scolded myself. No doubt Kylah would espouse that I am more uptight than usual.

"I'm sure Galdea will look after you adequately, Bastila." Her tone edged into frostiness. "That is, unless you plan to take charge."

My lips pursed. It had not escaped me that Kylah felt belittled, perhaps even thwarted, by the token rank of commander bestowed upon me. After all, she was the knight, the Jedi who had shielded me from the holo-press when Master Vrook could not, the friend who had always kept a watchful eye over me-

Kylah is a true Jedi, and will know to accept even what she cannot understand.

For the first time, I felt something akin to relief as I closed in on my destination. At least the upcoming conversation would distract Kylah from her ill-feeling.

I knocked firmly upon the entry hatch to one of the standard crew bedding quarters. A utilitarian, durasteel door that was commonplace throughout the starcruiser, and yet this one always seemed so ominous.

The hatch opened, and a hesitant, plainly clothed woman blinked in the entrance.

"Jedi Shan," she murmured in greeting, before devolving into a poorly executed bow that was as unnecessary as it was patently ridiculous. "What- what can I do for you?"

I bestowed her with what I hoped was a benevolent smile. "I have come to remind you that we exit hyperspace in little more than three hours, Jen. I know you are ill-used to hypertravel; as long as you remain safely secured during the transition you shall be fine."

Jen Sahara's bright green gaze darted to Kylah. "I- I'm sure I'll be okay. Thank you."

She looked so young, freshly scrubbed and ill-at-ease as she hid behind a short mop of dark brown curls. Sometimes, I found it hard to remind myself that Jen Sahara had a couple of years even on Kylah, that she was-

I reined my dangerous thoughts back in with habitual precision, and kept my attention firmly fixed upon her. "You have everything you need?" I asked, searching around for a conversation starter that would not discomfit the shy scholar.

She glanced back to me, holding my gaze for only the briefest of moments. "Yes, Jedi Shan," she answered quietly. "Everyone has - has been kind."

"I notice you have downloaded many archaeological journals in the last few days," I continued doggedly. Force, but she was difficult to befriend. Even like this. "If you have need for more information, do not hesitate to ask me."

She nodded, her expression downcast and demure. She sees me as someone she can trust. Jen Sahara has never left her homeworld before. I must remember that, and be the soul of empathy. With a step forward, I rested my hand gently upon her shoulder.

"Do not be afraid to talk to me, Jen Sahara. I promise I will not bite."

Kylah, in my shadow, did a poor job of stifling her snort of disparagement. I saw the answering burn of embarrassment on the scholar's wan face, but her glance back to me was grateful.

"Thank you, Jedi Shan. I shall."

I allowed the forced smile on my face to grow, and counted our interaction as a minor victory. Next time I seek Jen Sahara out, I shall ensure Kylah is not with me.

With a nod of farewell, I retreated from the room, motioning Kylah to follow.

"Honestly, Bastila, she is just a simple scholar," Kylah drawled in a quiet murmur. "Why you feel the urge to check up on such a quiet little mouse, I do not know."

The hiss of the hatch closing behind me was audible, and incriminating. I pinned Kylah with a stern frown, even as I doubted it would have any effect on my somewhat cavalier friend. "Kylah, she likely heard that," I admonished. "Jen Sahara is one of our crew, and we have an-"

"-obligation, I know," she huffed. "I am little concerned with the opinions of Force-blind academics, Bastila, and this constant hovering of yours distracts you from your studies." She loosed a pent-up sigh, before patting me on the shoulder. I was not sure if the gesture was meant to be apologetic or commiserating. "Perhaps hypertravel is wearing me down somewhat. I shall retreat to our meditation chamber - you'd better head to Master Galdea and the bridge. You'll want to be there early, if you're going to lead the hyperspace descent."

"I am not," I replied, somewhat tartly. I had certainly taken note of the disbelief in Captain Onasi's countenance when he perused the official command missive, and had no desire to tread on the toes of either the experienced Fleet officer or Master Galdea. "But I shall seek Master Galdea out, now. Have a restful meditation, my friend. May the Force embrace you."

Sometimes, even in conversation with Kylah, I still had the impression that my words came across as pious instead of supporting. Sometimes, I dearly wished for my earlier days on Dantooine, before- before everything.

"The Force is with us all, Bastila," Kylah murmured, her face breaking into a warm smile of camaraderie. "I'll catch up with you during the refuelling."

xXx

Neann Dallash:

::Crew quarters Red-7A. Designated occupants: Republic Ensign Trask Ulgo and civilian Jen Sahara.::

Maybe Shan's brief detour wasn't that odd, considering Ulgo and Sahara were both part of the Jedi support staff. While Ensign Ulgo had sworn his oaths to the Republic Navy, he'd been inserted as one of the soldiers who reported directly to Shan and that Jedi Master, Galdea.

Frustratingly, I hadn't found anything of use on the dozen soldiers attached to the Jedi. All were experienced, loyal Republic grunts with impeccable service records. They'd undertaken a stint of active duty on Dantooine, before swearing into Jedi service for the duration of the mission.

The civilian academic, also, seemed to hold no mystery other than a tragic past. Her dossier was brief: a childhood in some religious Outer Rim commune followed by years of archaeological study at a backwater academia. A refugee from the Sith bombing of Deralia, and stars knew that mess had been almost as ugly as the decimation of Telos, even if the holo-press had barely picked it up.

The only point of interest I could garner about the bint was her expertise in the Massassi era. Surely, that was a tip-off regarding the nature of the ruins on Tatooine - why else would the Jedi drag a wide-eyed civvie along on a covert mission?

Ah, well. It was another jot of intel to pass along to Dodonna. Might as well see if I can glean anything else from the recalcitrant scholar, while I'm here.

I knocked firmly on the entrance hatch. It was almost a full minute until she answered.

"Hi there," I said, keeping my voice non-assuming and friendly. "My name's Neann. I hear you're a civvie stuck onboard with all us troopers?"

The woman called Jen Sahara blinked at me owlishly, before biting her lip. It was an insecure expression echoed in the hunched set of her shoulders, more at home on a pimply teen than a twenty-something scholar.

"Um, hi. I'm Jen. Do you need something?" Her voice was hesitant, and her gaze dropped from mine. It gave me time to appraise the woman properly. She was tall, but not unusually so. Her skin was pale and wan, with the dusky look of too much time spent indoors. Give her a season or two in true sunlight, and I'd wager Jen Sahara would bear a natural olive tone. Cropped dark curls framed a face that looked older than her service records - which was an incongruous observation when contrasted with her behaviour.

"I understand you know something of the Massassi era?" I asked, immediately ditching my first instinct to ask the woman out for a drink. Somehow, I didn't think the overly timid Jen Sahara would reciprocate well to a friendly gesture from a stranger.

"Er, a little bit. I mean- yes, yes I do. It's my area of study." The woman looked up again, and a genuine spark of interest deepened the moss-green of her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I've always been interested in pre-Republic times," I lied. "The Massassi - fascinating creatures. Connected to the Sith, weren't they?"

"Well, there's records suggesting they were a sub-species of the Sith." Her nose wrinkled in thought. "It's all a bit muddied in fragments of records, though, because the Sith are seen as a religion or doctrine, not an actual species. We know the Massassi built temples and effigies on Yavin IV and Korriban, but those planets are notoriously difficult to fund expeditions to."

"That's... very interesting," I said faintly. Far as I was concerned, the Sith were a bunch of murdering bastards, same as the Mandalorians - both consisting of a vast cross-section of species all united under the same banner of inhumane bloodlust. The only difference being the former filled their upper ranks with Dark Jedi. Frankly, the idea of a Sith species seemed slightly on the absurd side. "Did the Massassi ever inhabit Tatooine?"

"Tatooine?" Jen Sahara blinked, visibly startled. "Oh, no. The Massassi didn't expand very far, even at the height of their empire. And Tatooine- that's always been a remote location. Other than the indigenous Tusken Raiders, the only sentients who have settled there are the recent colonists and trade conglomerates."

I faked a smile. Diffident and overly shy Jen Sahara might be, but it seemed I'd discovered the way to reach her. "Well, the upcoming expedition will certainly be fascinating," I offered. "Guess you'll be one of the lucky ones shuttling down to Tatooine's sandy surface?"

"No." Jen shook her head, eyes widening in alarm. "No, I'm an academic. I don't ever plan on leaving Deralia- I mean, um, I didn't plan on it." She blushed, then, and looked even more uneasy than earlier. "I'm sorry, Neann, but I have research to attend to. It was, um, nice to meet you."

She took a step back, gave me an awkward wave of farewell, and swished the hatch shut in my face.

It was my turn to blink, at the grey durasteel staring me in the face. Smooth, Neann. Real smooth. Looked like even the mere thought of stepping outside the Endar Spire had shy Jen Sahara scurrying back to her bunk.

With a rueful sigh, I turned on my heel and made to depart. If I wanted to befriend the introvert, I'd have to brush up on my ancient history. I was still debating the merits of that when a muted beep echoed from my chron.

A ping, detecting a captured transmission outside the parameters I'd set in my tracking software.

Over an hour before I'm due on the bridge. I concealed a frown at the unusual source of the alert. I should have enough time to check this out, send that report to Dodonna, and get to the bridge before Onasi frowns at my tardiness.

It'd been a busy day. After the dock and refuel, once the Endar Spire was safely tucked in hyperspace towards Tatooine, I might actually let myself have a nap.

xXx

Jen Sahara:

I leaned back against the closed hatch, feeling the comforting press of hard metal at my back. The Zabrak, no doubt, was walking away and leaving me in desired solitude. I wonder if his horns ever catch on his clothing? It seemed a bizarre thought. He'd been friendly enough, but I'd never met a Zabrak before in my life. Deralia was populated almost entirely with Humans, descended from the Godsworn missionaries who'd travelled there some centuries back.

It had been hard not to stare at the dark ridges on the man's face, and I'd felt like a stumbling teenager navigating the throes of conversation with the opposite sex.

Opposite... species. If there is such a thing. I'd spent years researching different cultures and peoples, but meeting them face-to-face was something entirely different. My whole experience onboard this intergalactic starcruiser had been, so far, overwhelming.

It's good for me; good for my career. I knew that, and the compliment of the Jedi Order seeking out my services still stunned. But I couldn't deny the yearning to be safely ensconced back home, away from this melting pot of sentients, away from dangerous desert planets that were a lot more interesting reading about from a holonet screen than actually setting foot upon.

Jedi Shan has assured me I will remain on the Endar Spire. I have nothing to be alarmed about. World-wise people like that friendly Zabrak might jump at the chance to visit Tatooine, but I knew enough about that planet to ascertain it was hardly safe.

Deralia was a peaceful, remote world, and the Godsworn commune even more so. There was no overt crime, no violence, never had been until- until-

My mind blanked.

Until... what? The sting of nausea assailed me, and I laid a shaky hand against the durasteel walling. Metals were scarce, back home; most of our dwellings were made from a patchwork of native timber and hardened clay. Until nothing. I have nothing to be alarmed about. There's never been war on Deralia. I'm fortunate to hail from a planet far removed from the ugly violence so rampant elsewhere.

The dizziness subsided, leaving only a residual exhaustion in its wake. My gaze darted to the utilitarian bunk as a deep lassitude settled achingly into my bones. I was so often tired these days. It's the onboard food. I'm simply not accustomed to the synthesizers here. Mass-produced food like that, it's probably deficient in half a dozen vitamins.

The dreamless safety of my bedding called me, and before I knew it I was already seated on the hard mattress. There was a second bunk on the opposite wall; Trask Ulgo's, the soldier who'd been assigned to look after me. Between him and Jedi Shan, I knew I was well taken care of. As long as I followed their lead I'd be just fine.

I lay back, resting my heavy head on the flat pillow. Trask had been called out for the hyperspace exit, but he'd assured me he'd be back as soon as it was over.

"...as long as you remain safely secured..."

Jedi Shan's words rose in my mind. Hyperspace exit was meant to be as disconcerting as the initial jump, and I'd slept through that. With the way my head was starting to pound, sleep was becoming more and more desirable.

My hands fumbled for the safety harnesses attached to the underside of the bunk. The clips were some sort of electronic mechanism; back home, we just used simple hooks and eye-loops for fasteners. I grimaced as the enclosures refused to affix, and another wave of exhaustion submerged me.

I'll just lie back for a minute. So tired. Jedi Shan had said... what, three hours? I had slept so much recently that surely all I needed was a quick moment of shut-eye.

The restraints fell from my limp hands. I'd sort them out in a minute. Just, first...

My eyelids dropped closed, and I allowed the headiness of slumber to embrace me.

xXx

Neann Dallash:

The report of the captured transmit was unusual. It came from the Jedi communication quarter, having been sent over half a day ago - but my routines only did a sweep there every twenty hours, hidden in the sub-function of a maintenance backup. Caution balanced with risk - I didn't want the Jedi finding out I was tracking their communications if I could help it.

So far all their transmits had been encrypted with Jedi protocols I'd been unable to crack, and sent directly to the Dantooine Enclave. This one... went somewhere else. And the encryption matrix used was simpler, as if it'd been hastily done.

I was required on the bridge within an hour. The Jedi had a habit of settling there early; this seemed a fortuitous time to sleuth in their comm room. I made sure to seal the hatch locked behind me.

I twisted an upgraded spike into the central console, and input the batch routines that would grant administrative access. The comm records were quick to pull up, and it only took a minute to run the decoding program alongside the offending transmit.

With bated breath, I launched the execute command.

The transmit was text only. A set of coordinates. My gaze narrowed. That's... that's the jump point for Mavis III. An icy shiver coursed through me as the implication hit with the force of a ferracrete brick. Someone's sent our refuelling location out... somewhere. More than half a standard day ago. Well before Onasi briefed me, before anyone else knew-

A Jedi. My breath caught. A Jedi sent this.

Why? Why would they do that, unless-

I had to tell Onasi. Frakk it, I had to move, quick, before he pulled the Endar Spire out of hyperspace.

With a mash of fingers on the keyboard, I erased the screen and logged out, jumped to my feet and-

The locked hatch opened behind me. A robed figure stood in the doorway.

"My my, what do we have here?"

Instinct warred with the hot adrenaline that fired through my bloodstream. I'm an engineer, I thought wildly, ducking my head and dropping my gaze. Years of intel training had taught me exactly what to do in cases like this, and exactly how to think fake thoughts around any Force-user that might employ mind-reading. There's a logged fault with the computer, but I can't find it, and I've given up and just want a quiet cup of caffa-

"Excuse me, Master Jedi," I mumbled, hunching my shoulders in an attempt to emulate that meek Jen Sahara. Internally, my thoughts still whirled. A quiet cup of caffa with the other grunts, before my superior tells me what a crap engineer I am. "I was called in to investigate a fault, but I'm afraid-"

In the periphery of my vision, I saw a hand raise. Immediately, my words stopped of their own volition.

"This is the Jedi's personal communication bunker," the woman drawled. "What are you doing, snooping in here?"

"Um, is it?" I squeaked. I don't want to upset the Jedi. I forced the thoughts to the forefront of my mind, ignoring the hot rush of fright that spiked in my gut. Maybe I got the room wrong? My superior's gonna fry my arse!  "I was sent to comm-room A3, Master Jedi. If I've offend-"

Another swish of the hand, and my words died again. I had to do better-

"Why, I do believe it's Bastila's little stalker."

Oh, frakk! The expletive shattered my internal monologue, and my mind raced like a stimmed-up junkie, trying desperately to formulate a plausible excuse-

There was a clacking noise as the Jedi strode deeper into the room. Clacking, as if she wore damn heels under those brown robes, and wasn't that the most absurd thought?

"I despise loose ends," she murmured. "And with so little time left, I can afford to take a risk."

The snap-hiss that echoed through the room froze my mind with a real, genuine terror. I wrenched my head up, to see tawny eyes glinting at me from behind an amber beam of plasma. Painted red lips curved in malicious pleasure. "You chose the wrong room to snoop in, Lieutenant."

I jerked to the side, one hand wrenching futilely for the blaster at my hip- but my limbs were suddenly frozen, as frozen as my mind, as damned as the entire ship was about to be-

The Jedi's- the Sith's- eyes creased in satisfaction, and somehow, I knew the bitch had picked that last thought straight from my mind.

xXx

Chapter Text

  Broken Recollections

- Jen Sahara -

Pain.

A dull throbbing emanated like a gong bashing inside my head, shattering my peaceful oblivion. Faint voices, whispering in tense and urgent tones, filtered in from distant shadows of my semi-conscious mind.

…

"Do not be alarmed. It is done, now. The rebuild is complete," someone said in a low, tired voice.

"What if she... what if she remembers something? Anything?" The reply was clipped, uptight and very feminine.

"She will not. And you will be there to ensure she does not. Have faith, Padawan. It will work out. It has to."

…

I prised open eyelids to see nothing but darkness. The voices fled, as if fearing the onslaught of consciousness. Just a bad dream. That's all. I have nothing to be alarmed about. A lance of red hot pain seized the side of my head with cruel fingers, biting deep before slowly fading away. I became aware of the cool press of metal against my cheek, and realized I was lying prone on the ground. Wait. Where am I?

A faint booming in the distance roused my awareness to the eerie wailing of sirens. The darkness was cut through by a flickering orange light, indicating an emergency system kicking in. I stayed still for a moment, processing what my vision could make out in the flashes of amber. There were two raised stretchers and a handful of lockers lining a vented, durasteel wall. I'm on a starship, I realized slowly. What am I doing here?

With a groan, I pushed myself up on shaky arms, and dizziness threatened to overwhelm me. The ground shook violently beneath my hands; it took me a moment to realize that it wasn't my own unsteadiness – the ship was being fired upon.

"All hands to the bridge!" a crackly voice emanated over the ship’s intercom. "We're under attack!"

No kidding, dumbass. The thought was sarcastic and grouchy - even if unwarranted - and more a reflex reaction to my own situation. And yet, it felt wrong, or at least, not what I should be thinking. That was uncharitable of me, a voice whispered. I winced, dragging myself to a seated position and leaning back against a wall, clutching at the side of my head.

It was wet and sticky.

I must have fallen against something, I realized. Cracked my head open. I pulled back a shaky hand, and under the luminescence of the warning lights realized it was covered in blood. Blood on my hands. Somehow, it seemed a familiar sight.

A door swished open, and I heard someone rush in, panting.

"Jen, there you are! We've been ambushed by a Sith battle fleet – you need to get up!" The voice was young, strong-sounding and very earnest. I tilted my head slowly to face him.

Jen. Jen Sahara. That's who I am. Until he'd said my name, I hadn't realized I hadn't known it. Head injury. Sithspit, this is bad.

Father would tan me if he heard such language, I thought, appalled.

"Jen?"

Like I give a ronto's arse what some misogynistic old coot thinks.

"Jen!" The man was crouching in front of me now, wholesome blue eyes staring at me worriedly. With a concerted effort of will, I forced my concentration back to him. Human, muscle-bound and handsome, he was obviously a soldier of some description. I picked him to be in his late twenties somewhere, younger than me and in optimum condition.

Wait. Younger? I'm only twenty-six galactic years. I was raised in a peaceful commune on Deralia, working on my father's farm before spending the last eight years studying at the local academia. The job contract from the Jedi Order had come out of nowhere, and still seemed like an impossible dream.

But… none of that felt right. I wasn't a scholar. And I sodding well did not work for the Jedi.

Sweat broke out on my neck and head, and I heard the harsh pants of my own breath. A feeling of vertigo threatened to overcome me and I struggled anew to force myself back to the present.

"You're hurt," the man said softly, placing a hand against my head. "Can you stand? We have to get moving."

I pushed his arm away instinctively. "Who are you?" I snapped, glaring at him.

The man's eyes flared briefly, a shadow of some dark emotion skimming over his otherwise intent expression. "That knock's done some damage to your head. I'm Trask, a soldier for the Republic and your roommate." He withdrew his hand, his entire posture tensing in readiness as he crouched over me. "Do you... do you know who you are?"

The surreality of the question mirrored the dizziness of my own thoughts; still, there was something about the line of inquiry that had my hackles rising. "I'm Jen Sahara," I muttered. I'm Jen Sahara. The words echoed, a hollow sound in my mind, a reverberation that felt off-key. The man in front of me seemed to relax, even as my own confusion peaked once more. "And you're Trask Ulgo."

Trask. Ensign Ulgo. Blurred memories slowly emerged as he leaned forward to help me stand. Trask has been helping me adjust to life onboard this overwhelming starcruiser. My thoughts stilled for a moment, as my gaze narrowed on him. Trask was good at running my life, informing me where to go, and what to do, and saving me from making gizka eyes at the captain. Wait... what sort of simpering coward am I?

Trask was a soldier for the Republic. And yet, he'd been assigned to bunk in with me – a nobody scholar hired by the Jedi to investigate some archaeological dig. Why would a combat soldier be sharing my quarters?

I'd never thought to question it before, which was strange in itself.

Things were coming back to me now; the hurried departure from Deralia – odd, that my father let me go – the week of dazed orientation on the awe-inspiring Hammerhead-class cruiser – not like it's that sodding spectacular – the studying of classified archaeological extracts that had certainly never passed clearance back at the Deralian Academia. I hadn't understood exactly what the Jedi were looking for, but I'd been quietly content to do their bidding whilst onboard the Endar Spire, en route to Tatooine.

Quietly content. To follow some Jedi to a smuggling destination.

What the frell is going on?

I winced as pain stabbed deep into the side of my head yet again, my thoughts unraveling in desperate confusion.

Trask had turned back to my sleeping quarters, locating a pair of track shoes which he threw unceremoniously in my direction. "Here. Put those on quick and we'll head out."

They tightened to fit my feet with a barely audible hiss. I was vaguely aware of my attire; plain clothes I'd been resting in while the cruiser had been attacked. Nothing protective in the least. Trask had the right idea though; the ship quaked beneath another barrage and I barely kept my balance. We had to move.

Trask unbuckled a blaster which he promptly handed to me, handle first. "The Sith have already boarded. Have you ever used one of these before, Jen?"

I stared down at the Echani M4 bolt blaster; Trask had kept the standard Republic issue gun and handed me a lighter weight, yet infinitely more accurate model. Definitely my preference. I powered it on, checked the thermal batteries and charging light before raising it experimentally to test the weight.

"Yep."

"Okay," he replied slowly. He looked a bit taken aback. "Well, let's move out. Stay behind me, and we'll make our way to the bridge. Our first priority is to find Bastila."

Bastila. I should know that name. I must have appeared blank, as Trask's frown deepened.

"Jedi Shan. The commanding officer here on the Endar Spire!" he said urgently. Recollection unfolded, like access into a secure databank suddenly being released. Jedi Shan. She's in charge of our mission. Funny, I'd thought the commander had been a guy. And wasn't this a Republic ship?

Trask was waiting by the door, tapping his foot impatiently like a petulant child while I struggled with the cobwebs of my hazy mind.

"Jedi Shan can take care of herself," I answered finally, leveling a serious look at him. "We should be heading to the escape pods."

The crackly voice from the earlier broadcast spat out another ship-wide message. "The Sith have overrun our position! Evacuate immediately!"

I raised my hands to indicate that even Mr. Crackly agreed with me, but Trask was shaking his head urgently. "You signed a contract with the Jedi, and Bastila will be able to look after you, Jen. I must get you to her!"

There's something else going on here, I realized with mounting suspicion. He may be a Republic soldier, but he's been assigned to me. I bet he reports to Jedi Shan, not the Republic. Why would an anonymous scholar like Jen Sahara warrant a guard? I stared at him intently. There are ways of making a soldier talk. And scream.

That was a different inner voice. Dark and malicious, shocking me with it's implied cruelty.

Focus. Focus! I pushed down the venomous thought with an internal wrench. I needed to do the smart thing, and concentrate on escaping. I can find out why my mind is a spice-addled mess later. I've got to get out of here first, especially with the Sith crawling around.

Sith… and the Republic. Why did I feel like I couldn't trust either side?

With an effort almost beyond me, I slid a mask of calm competence over my frantic, derailing thoughts. "Alright, let's go soldier," I said briskly.

Concern momentarily creased Trask's strong face. "I know you're not used to fighting, Jen, but I promise you we'll get out of here alive. Stay behind me, and aim that blaster at any Sith we meet."

I followed him quietly out of the door – and straight into the enemy.

Two black-clad soldiers turned shiny visors in our direction. Trask was already charging, a vibrosword brandished in both hands, halfway to the nearest one before a weapon was even pointed in his direction. The armoured Sith yelled in pain as Trask smashed his blade hard on an upraised limb, following it with a powerful swing into the Sith's side.

My hands held the Echani pistol steady, sighting the second soldier as I was vaguely aware of the first collapsing to the ground. Always aim for the centre of mass. Hot on the trigger, I unleashed a flurry of bolts directly at the man's upper chest.

He'd been focused on Trask, right up until my shots hit home.

The Sith grunted, wildly swinging his blaster to sight me. He's got one of those frelling energy shields, if he's still standing! I fired again, holding my position, as a foreign voice squeaked through my mind-

I've never shot at anyone in my life! Suddenly, I was drenched in an appalled sense of horror, as the barrel of the enemy's blaster flared at me. This is-

An agonizing burn stabbing into my shoulder punched me to the ground; black spots invaded my vision as I stared up at the vented ceiling, stunned.

The hiss of blaster fire sounded fuzzy, distant... Kath crap, two Sith mooks should be child's play. If this is my end then… it is really quite embarrassing. My tenuous control over my thoughts was fading, and the sensation of sinking deep into an abyss began to overcome me. Those pathetic gravel maggots aren't fit to lick my boots.

"Jen, you have to get up," Trask panted, his face appearing above me. "They're dead. We have to go. Just- just stay behind me. I'll protect you the best I can." He pulled me up roughly, and vertigo danced a dangerous samba through me once more.

Nausea reared. Trask's face was shiningly earnest, and all I could think was that I was one step away from puking all over him.

We have to keep moving. Trask's grip was firm on my upper arm as my head began to clear. "Right," I rasped, before clearing my throat. "Right. Lead on." My shoulder burned and throbbed. I yanked my arm back, sending Trask a firm nod as I strove to ignore the blaze of pain.

Use your pain, a voice taunted. Use your anger.

A second after that insidiously dark thought, there was something else. Something else in my mind, some sort of presence or consciousness beyond the conflicting thoughts that had been tormenting me.

Something that didn't belong to me at all-

Trask was already striding away, stepping over bloodied corpses without a second look as he turned into an unoccupied service corridor.

I followed in a daze.

Now that I'd noticed this... thing – and it was sentient, I knew it was – I could sense flashes of panic emanating from it. Not my own panic.... no, this was separate to my own maelstrom of emotions, I was certain. But then a cloud of calm and lucidity enveloped the... person... and their attention was abruptly swung on me.

It felt like a halogen light was shining directly inside my head.

Ice froze in my spine, and self-preservation took over; I pointedly thought and felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

It appeased the presence; how I knew, I couldn't explain, but a sense of relief emanated from it briefly before it slowly faded away.

"…hurt, but conscious. I'll take her directly to the escape pods. May the Force protect you."

I was biting my lip so hard the coppery taint of blood filled my mouth. Vaguely, awareness returned: Trask had been busy speaking into a personal communicator, and now he was turning back to face me.

"We're going to the nearest escape pods, it's not far from here – just past the bridge."

Well, that's a change of heart. "Given up on Bastila, huh?" I said, with a flippancy I didn't feel.

"She'll wait for us there as long as she can," he informed me, briefly looking down at the communicator inset on his Republic armour. That was her he was just speaking to, I realized with a cold clarity.

That was her in my mind.

…and I bet she expects me to act like meek little Jen Sahara. I was thinking about myself in the third person. Wasn't that a sign of insanity?

I have to stop freaking out. But it felt more… natural… to consider Jen as someone… someone who was not me.

Whether I’m Jen or not-Jen, it’s in everyone’s best interest if I pretend to be her. A cool shaft of logic cleared the tumultuous confusion of my spiraling thoughts. Sweetness and light. I'll play this out until I have a better handle on everything.

I took a deep breath. Control. Rise above the emotions. No, that's not Jen, I realized. Panic, trust in the big tough guy. I looked up at Trask, practicing my best hero-worship expression. I'd better keep this up. I've a funny feeling my life may depend on it.

Trask motioned me once more to follow him, and we cut through an empty conference room. Datapads littered the chrome-topped plasticeel tables, and a body slumped lifelessly over an office chair. Without comment, we moved briskly into the adjacent hallway. Red and amber sidings indicated this as a restricted area - we were nearing the bridge. Through the next door and…

…my minds eye was overcome with a vision of a Jedi battling a Dark Jedi, lightsabers whirling and crashing. Bright green hissed and sparked against blood red like a display of electro-lights in the night's sky. Focus! I've no time to wallow in dreams right now!

"It's a Dark Jedi!" Trask hissed, pushing me backwards. Dizziness surged through me. "This fight is too much for us – we'd better stay back. All we'd do is get in the way."

With a startled jolt I realized this was reality. The two feinted, dodged and parried – faster than normal sentients, their reactions obviously aided by the mystical power that only the very few could wield.

And I could sense it. Or… something… crackling between the two of them. The female Twi'lek, a brown-clad Jedi, raised her arm and I felt a torrent of energy pushing out from her and striking the Dark Jedi Human, who fell and rolled to the side. He counter-attacked by deftly manipulating the power buzzing around the two of them, wrapping it about her neck and squeezing.

This is a dream, this isn't real. I want to go home! the meek voice I was beginning to associate as Jen blubbered. Yet part of me was eyeing the fight critically as the Twi'lek flung aside the psychic power and advanced once more on her opponent. The 'sabers clashed again and again, and the man's technique had a fumbling edge to it that indicated he was the inferior.

She'll finish him soon.

The female struck a killing blow, and the Sith staggered to his knees, coughing up blood in his dying throes. I felt terrified, revolted... and simultaneously detached from the whole spectacle. The ship rocked again and a power conduit exploded behind the woman. Arcs of lightning spat from the electronics, catching the Jedi off-guard and electrocuting her instantly.

Even the Jedi were mortal.

She crumpled to the ground, an anguished moan expelling the last of the air from her lungs.

Trask cursed audibly. "That was one of the Jedi accompanying Bastila! Stang, we could have used her help!"

Acting on instinct, I scurried forward and quickly rifled through the still-warm corpses, eager the grab one of the lightsabers.

"Jen, we don't have time!" Trask grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the exit. Blood pounded through my head, a jagged slice of pain cutting through any instinctive resistance, strong enough to keep me momentarily pliant. "We need to get out of here – if there's one Dark Jedi, there's going to be others!"

Rage exploded from within, surging through my veins like a maelstrom. No one grabs me like that. I was hyperaware of the blaster in my hand, and how easy it would be to raise it and shoot Trask point-blank in the face.

At once, the entity… or was it Bastila? honed in on my mind again with a razor-sharp awareness that had me freezing in surprise. My anger drew her attention, I realized with a chill. This is some sort of mind-link.

Sweetness and light, I thought numbly. Control the rage… for now. I quashed my anger with a controlled ease I didn't dare dwell on, and let Jen's feelings come to the fore. Panicked... but safe in the presence of big strong Trask. Ugh.

The focus of the presence turned away from me imperceptibly. Then, in a sudden rush, it disappeared from my awareness altogether.

"Lead on Trask," I said in a sweet voice. "I'm right behind you." With a blaster pointed at your head.

The ship rumbled ominously, and we picked up our pace. The cruiser didn't seem like it would hold together much longer, and it was with relief that I noticed we finally made it to the bridge.

It was deserted now; two corpses hung over bucket chairs, and I saw Trask grimace as if in pain. The flight control computers were dim, and one was charred and cracked. A lightsaber did that. Outside the ferracrystal window, a nearby blue planet rolled alarmingly past our visage; the Endar Spire was no longer under any steady flight pattern.

"Escape pods," I muttered, as my shoulder throbbed a painful rhythm in sync with my heartbeat. The side of my head replied in a lacerating echo. "Where are they, Trask?"

"This way," he answered, and we left the bridge via the starboard exit. The next hallway had a side door. As we neared to pass, we both heard a sound from behind – an ominous snap-hiss some part of me recognized all too well, accompanied with a malicious laugh.

"There's something behind here," Trask warned in a low tone.

"Well, duh," I muttered. Trask shot me a surprised look. Oh. That's not really a Jen response. I schooled my face, and clenched the blaster tight in my hand.

The door opened and from deep within the room beyond a man faced us arrogantly, fitted in a sturdy exoskeleton that well exceeded Republic issue armour. He held a lightsaber which radiated blood-red, reflecting sparks of colour across chrome walls. I felt the same power surging from him, but eons more potent that the Jedi fight we witnessed earlier. It almost made me stagger back in its intensity.

Fear struck hard in my gut. I was in no state to face anyone half as powerful as this guy.

"Damn – another Dark Jedi! I'll try to hold him off; you get to the escape pods! Go!" Trask shoved me backwards and ran through the opening, slamming his hand on the door controls as he crossed the threshold. The last I saw was the Dark Jedi sauntering toward him, a cruel smile playing across bloodless, amused lips.

Was he frelling crazy? He just committed suicide! To say I was startled was an understatement. We may have been bunkmates for awhile, but to give his life for me… Stupid idiot. Unless... He's been ordered to get me out of here alive, at any cost.

Preferably to Jedi Bastila Shan.

"Well, let's not waste that," I muttered, and broke into as fast a sprint as my head injury would allow. Another door on my left, hopefully leading to the escape pods. I heard the clanking of a Sith group marching in that awful armour just beyond the wall.

Sounds like about four of them. No way I can take them all on.

There was a computer terminal mounted on the side of the room, which was next to useless for me. A broken assault droid that might have been helpful had someone not smashed both its arms off. A Sith body behind it clutched a vibrosword in a dead hand.

Adrenaline pumped an urgent tempo in my veins. I had to keep moving away from the Dark Jedi, yet the next room meant certain death. I glanced erratically around the area, but no salvation was forthcoming.

Irrational fury was growing, hot and heavy in my gut. I will not go down like this. It was slicing though the fear, surging through me and revitalizing aching muscles. The pain of my injuries dimmed as anger overrode everything, demanding an immediate outlet. I will not go down like this!

I snatched the vibrosword up with a snarl, stuffing the blaster in my belt before slamming my hand on the door control. There was barely time to register four armoured Sith before I charged in, vibrosword primed. The nearest one hadn't even turned when the blade of my weapon smashed down on that weak join of their shiny armour, that place where shoulder plate and neck brace met. He crumpled beneath a shower of red droplets.

Feral instinct took control. I stabbed sideways, blade piercing through the visor of the next Sith. Leaping back, I dodged behind the side of the door as blaster fire pinged past. I pressed myself hard against the wall, dropping one hand from the vibrosword and pulling out the Echani blaster.

Two figures side-stepped into view, firing even as my finger was hot on the trigger. The first fell from my barrage, just as a deep burn seared into my already mangled shoulder.

The pain was intense. It scythed through the berserker rage, dissipating it like smoke on the wind. Weapons fell from my suddenly limp grasp. Kath crap, I thought inanely.

But luck was on my side – I heard a couple of blasts and the last soldier collapsed. Looking at me from beyond the corpses with something like shock was a Republic officer, if his uniform was anything to go by.

"You've made it just in time!" he said in a commanding voice. "There's only one escape pod left. Come on, we can hide out on the planet below!"

I recognized him, I realized numbly as he advanced. Captain Onasi, some hotshot flyboy in charge of the ship. Although Trask had said this Bastila had been. Either way, the captain seemed competent on first glance; probably the sort who didn't leave people behind. Belatedly, I remembered sweet little Jen had a crush on him.

Oh great. Well, whether I'm Jen or someone else, I'm certainly not going to act that one out. I remembered blushing and scurrying away the one time he had spoken to me. You have got to be kidding me, I thought in vague irritation.

I nodded at him, took a few steps and dropped to my knees. Blood pounded through my head, and I heard a loud rushing noise.

"Stang!" someone cursed, and I felt myself being lifted. My grasp on consciousness, and sanity for that matter, was slipping away. Faces and images sparked through my mind like chaotic shards of lightning shearing through the gloom and destroying all in its path.

A robed Zabrak wielding a cyan blade. A handsome man with eyes the ecru shade of Corellian whiskey- no, no, they were a poisoned yellow. A wry grin from a blind guardian. Yellow eyes burning with passion. Blood. Terror. Darkness. Yellow eyes burning with hate. A yellow Twi'lek offering his hand in unbending loyalty.

Yellow eyes and black death. So much death.

There was a sharp prick in my arm, and I was vaguely aware of being placed on a seat.

"A shot of kolto. We'll get you more when we land," a voice said. Something tightened around my waist like a belt, but all I could feel was this sense of nightmarish horror.

It wasn't meant to end like this! I could see light above, but it would be too much of a struggle to reach, and I would only bring the shadows with me.

I let myself drop, sinking into a welcome darkness.

Then sweet, sweet oblivion claimed me.

xXx

Chapter Text

The art of convincing

- Carth Onasi - 

The apartment was pretty beat-up, considering it was located on the upper echelons of Tarisian society. Murky crimson blotches marred the drab plasteel walls, marks that told me this environment was not as safe as I would have liked. But it's in the alien quarter. The Sith don't come here much, and that's the important factor. I sighed. I was sick of sitting here like a blind target, and there were only so many times I could play pazaak by myself. With an imaginary deck.

Damn the Jedi. Damn them for getting me into this mess. And damn myself for not being able to walk away.

And what a mess it was. The ambush of the Endar Spire happened so quickly we'd barely had time to react. We'd stopped to refuel at Mavis III, a neutral space station near the Taris system. A cruiser the size of the Endar Spire had significant logistical needs; for all that our mission had been done in stealth, it wasn't so easy to sneak around hyperspace with that much manpower to support.

Even so, the officer in me pointed out that only the Jedi team - and myself - had been cognizant of our intermediary destination. I'd only informed my senior navi-pilot a handful of hours before hyperspace exit - and he'd never even made it to the bridge.

Yet a fair portion of the Sith armada had been lying in wait when we entered realspace. That had to be the work of a traitor - a Jedi traitor.

I closed my eyes when I considered how many had been slaughtered onboard. All the escape pods had launched towards the Sith-controlled planet of Taris, but we hadn't been close; not all of them would have survived. And only one Jedi even made it to the pods. The rest had perished, vanquished along with so many of my comrades by those Sith monsters.

To think that once we'd thought the Mandalorians had been the real threat.

So here I was, hiding as a fugitive on Taris with an injured academic, my only hope that Jedi Bastila Shan might have survived and I could mount a rescue before the Sith found her. For whatever her mission had been, it was considered highly critical to the Republic war effort.

And how the blazes was I, a star-pilot and fleet captain, to achieve a feat better left to scouts I had no idea.

Yet.

I'd blundered into this apartment complex surprisingly quick after the landing – if one could call smashing into several buildings before grinding to an explosive halt outside the local cantina a landing. Still, the resulting smoke and gawking drunks allowed me to hightail it without attracting notice. I'd been lucky it was night, and that somehow the Sith patrols had missed me vanishing into the crowd.

There’d been a poorly dressed Ithorian who’d seen me slip away from the escape pod, and for some unknown reason taken pity on our predicament. Despite the language barrier – he spoke no Basic and I didn’t understand his home tongue – he’d led me to this complex, indicating this very room – mercifully empty - before disappearing. If I’d been a Jedi, I would have considered it the will of the Force. As it was, I’d been both gratified and surprised at my fortuitous good luck.

I'd carried the injured scholar with me, who'd been out stone cold, but a traitorous voice in my head suggested things would be a lot easier if I was on my own.

My eyes slid to the comatose figure on the ratty bunk, as I mentally berated myself for that unwelcome thought. I'd never left anyone behind in all my years of service, and I wasn't about to start now... but I'd seen her onboard. A shy academic who blushes if someone so much as looks at her. But she had, at least, some fighting ability. I'd seen the tail-end of her brawl with that group of Sith near the escape pods. Her fighting ability had been wild, unhinged, and surprisingly accurate given her service records.

A berserker, I'd thought in surprise; either with some experience or an amazing amount of luck to survive that encounter. I wasn't sure how helpful that would be, though - berserkers weren't necessarily the best at keeping a low profile.

The woman was moaning quietly in her sleep. She'd had a shot of kolto back on the 'Spire, and the standard medical kit from the escape pod had been useful in patching her up, but... more kolto is what I really need. The wound on her head looked serious. I cursed under my breath.

I'd had a bit of a scout around last night, attempting to orientate myself with this foreign world. The urbanized planet consisted of multiple levels of sprawling buildings, integrated into vertical suburbs. Having crashed on the topside "surface", I was currently hiding out in what was known as Upper Taris, the relatively high-class governmental district. It seemed travel to the lower levels was strictly controlled. I'd been quite surprised at the lack of air traffic until I'd heard about the planet-wide quarantine.

It makes sense. The Sith will be searching for any survivors. I'd followed the war as much as any soldier fighting for the Republic, and I'd known about the Sith presence on this planet. Not quite an invasion – Taris had been decimated in the Mandalorian wars, so was first a willing economic partner with the Sith, and over time a not-so-willing base for their forces. Apparently the Tarisian government was neutral in the ongoing conflict, but as I oh-so-casually checked out my immediate surroundings, I'd realized that the Sith were really the ones in control here.

The place was crawling with them. Men garbed in shiny black armour haunted the entrance to any accessible turbo-lifts and patrolled the vast courtyards that graced the commercial sectors of Upper Taris. I could only hope that they had not found Bastila Shan.

For Bastila's Jedi gifts were one of the few advantages we had left in this monstrous war. To think that the Sith leader, Darth Malak – and his master before him, Darth Revan – had once been the shining heroes of the Republic. I, like so many others, had admired them and followed them to victory, before they viciously turned on the people they had saved. They weren't the only traitors, a bitter voice reminded me.

But I wasn't going to dwell on my resentment about betrayal; I had a mission to complete. I'd managed to find a medical centre, headed by a doctor I'd wager had Republic sympathies, considering the grim way he scowled whenever I'd mentioned the Sith. He wasn't very forthcoming with information, but he'd promised to get me some kolto by morning, for what amounted to candy money – which was frankly all I had. I don't like trusting strangers – especially when they offer salvation for cracklenuts. But what other choice do I have? I doubted my injured companion would last long without kolto, and I didn't exactly see any spare bacta tanks lying about, either.

I glanced around the tiny apartment. A hard bunk lined the dank room on one side, and a grimy, minimalist kitchenette on the other. The place had been stripped of any items, other than a few fraying blankets and a handful of dirty clothes. The latter was actually a shining piece of luck; although musty and ill-fitting, the clothes were certainly more appropriate than either the commander's uniform I'd been wearing, or my lucky old flight jacket I'd grabbed while fleeing the Endar Spire.

But I was starting to feel edgy and claustrophic; worn out from anxiety over my comatose comrade, and aggravated at the lack of action. I hated to be sitting around doing nothing, waiting for that damn scholar to wake up. Well, there's no reason I can't go out for a bit. I need to see Zelka anyway, and I may as well get my bearings.

I figured it was heading on to early dawn on Taris, and the chances of the woman waking in the next few hours were slim to none. I jammed my well-used blaster underneath the cast-off shirt I'd pulled from the apartment's cupboard, and cautiously headed out. The resident aliens threw me curious looks as I walked past, but didn't approach. They are just as wary as me.

I strode past a merchant Twi'lek who'd set up a kiosk in the building, and avoided his gaze. He had that eager salesman look, completely at odds with the locals who lived here.

"Well, I don't see too many of your kind around here," the fellow boomed at me as I tried to edge surreptitiously past. "Most of the residents in this old rundown apartment are illegal aliens. My name is Larrim, by the way."

"Uh, hi," I said dismissively in response, and continued walking.

"I know it's really none of my business, but you look like someone who might need to purchase one of these new energy shields. They're the latest thing, you know. Very high tech."

I sighed inwardly as I stopped to face him. "Maybe later."

"Come on, at a price of one hundred credits almost anyone can afford them! They'll absorb at least four direct blaster hits before depletion – this could save your life in a fight!"

"Unless you're up against vibroswords," I said dryly. As if I had the credits, anyway. The Twi'lek looked ready to burst into another enthusiastic spiel. The technology behind energy shields had revolutionized ground combat during the Mandalorian wars – and brought back an almost extinct form of engagement: melee fighting. Vibroswords - swords that emitted ultrasonic vibrations to increase their cutting edge - sliced straight through energy shields.

"Look, I don't have any credits, sorry!" I told him quickly as I strode off. His extroverted zeal was an anomaly – most of the aliens kept to themselves here and I couldn't blame them, considering the rampant xenophobia on Taris. I'd already heard several comments about those 'filthy non-Humans littering our streets' when I'd been out scouting earlier.

I walked outside into the morning sun, a public courtyard stretching magnificently before me. Other than a handful of rundown, disused buildings, Upper Taris gleamed and glistened with wealth. A few early-risers dotted the pathways, and their attire was a far cry from grubby clothes I was sporting.

I grimaced, feeling more out of place here than on Coruscant itself. Though at least here I'm not forced to wear that hideous ceremonial uniform the Republic is so keen on. Coruscant had never been my favourite destination.

As I strolled towards the medical centre, I started mulling over my predicament. I knew Jedi Shan had escaped, and I also knew that she was the only Jedi who'd managed to. My duty demanded that I do everything possible to rescue her, but it wasn't going to be easy.

If only I knew what this mission had really been about. We'd been en route to Tatooine, and all I'd managed to squeeze out of the Jedi onboard was that it had something to do with ruins. Admiral Dodonna herself had organized my transfer as an advisory captain to the starcruiser's navi-pilots.

It was not my usual role.

...

"I need someone I can trust onboard the Endar Spire, Captain." Her dark eyes were serious and intent on me. Admiral Dodonna was a superior I had a vast amount of respect for. She was not my usual reporting line, though - she'd bumped me to her staff for reasons she was now expounding upon: mysterious and irritating ones, it was beginning to seem.

"I want to be on the frontlines, Admiral, where I can be useful!" I protested. This all sounded about as pleasant as paperwork groundside. "I don't see how carting around a bunch of Jedi from planet to planet is going to help the war."

"The Jedi are not particularly forthcoming with information, but I do understand this stealth mission is critical." She sighed, as a look of grim - almost bleak - determination added another ten years to her already lined face. "Technically this is a mission from the Jedi Order, so you'll be accountable to them even though you will report to me whenever possible. Carth, you've spent your lifetime fighting and have more experience at adapting to changing situations than most. I know you, and I trust you." She paused for a moment before her voice returned, quieter than before. "We are not winning the war, Carth. You know this."

I felt the corners of my mouth turn down as I was forced to acknowledge that statement with a brisk nod. Darth Malak's armada was expanding with foreign ships that seemingly came from nowhere. The Republic was losing... and losing hard.

Admiral Dodonna sighed again. "Whatever the Jedi have up their sleeve may be our only chance."

I could understand her reasoning, but my skills would be wasted on this trip. I was a snubfighter pilot, a Wing Leader; stang, there'd even been times I'd fought on the ground. Captaining large starcruisers was not something in my resume, and it being an advisory role made me feel all the more useless. "Yes, but surely there is someone better suited for this position, Admiral? I can help on the-"

"You have your orders, Captain." Her voice rang with the steel of authority, and I subsided, feeling both frustrated and thwarted. It was Dodonna's trust and high opinion that hogtied me here: implied was the need for both a listening ear and a persuasive voice that could wring details from the Jedi and squirrel those details back to Republic HQ.

I revised my earlier thought: paperwork on base sounded infinitely more appealing than dealing with secretive Jedi.

Dodonna's grey eyes softened an infinitesimal amount. "Find out what they're up to, Carth. And good luck."

...

So there I was, a decorated war hero bowing to every Jedi whim. And there had been enough of them, though that Bastila one was the worst. And the most important, unfortunately. I grimaced. Her battle meditation alone had made her a vital asset to the Republic war effort, but her snooty attitude I could have lived without.

Then there was this Jen Sahara; a meek scholar who'd hid behind one of the ensigns onboard for the most part. And yet, she was able to put down three Sith soldiers in an angry rage, despite the injuries I'd later discovered she'd been sporting.

I don't get why she was on the ship. I'd checked out her service records, and they were disappointingly brief. Jen Sahara had grown up in a commune on Deralia. Studied ancient archaeology and anthropology at the Academia there. Apparently, the Jedi had requested her services to check out some mysterious ruins on Tatooine. That doesn't gel, though. Most of the Jedi on the Endar Spire would know more about ancient ruins than some unknown scholar. They spend all their life farting around with historical texts and old artefacts. And if they wanted scholars, surely they'd hire more than just one? According to Jen's records, she'd never even left her home planet before. Something doesn't fit, and I'm going to find out what.

xXx

A few hours later I was on my way back to the apartment. Zelka Forn had loosened up a bit, downloaded a Tarisian informational package to my datapad, and informed me that a couple of escape pods had crashed into the Undercity. Which was happily populated with diseased infectious mutants. I’ll worry about that when we get there, I told myself firmly. One step at a time, Onasi.

My biggest problem was credits – or lack thereof. I was hoping Jen Sahara would be intelligent enough to bounce ideas off, as getting down to the lower levels was starting to look incredibly tricky.

I became aware of a slight commotion as I drew close to the hideout. A Duros was hurriedly dragging what looked like a Sith corpse into the apartment next to mine, and judging by the blood on the floor there had been more than one. Blast it, the Sith are here already?

"What happened here?" I asked the Duros quickly, stepping in front of him. He jabbered back in his own language, and tried to drag the corpse around me. I wasn't falling for that, however; most aliens understood Galactic Basic even if they could not speak it. Maybe aid is the way to loosen his tongue. I grabbed the other end of the Sith corpse, and nodded to the apartment when the Duros gave me a surprised look.

"So, what happened? If you can speak Basic, I'd like to know. I'm just as keen to keep a low profile as you are," I said, once we were inside. This apartment was identical to the place I'd claimed, apart from obvious pile of corpses.

The Duros stared at me unblinkingly, and then sighed in defeat. "This isn't the first time the Sith have come in here to cause trouble for us, but hopefully it will be the last," the Duros answered, his voice halting and tripping over the words. He lowered his head sadly. "Poor Ixgil. He should never have talked back to that Sith."

"What were the Sith looking for?" I asked cautiously.

"Anything. They like to bully," the alien responded. "It would have meant my death, too, if not for that crazy Human."

I blinked. Crazy... Human? I thought there were only aliens around here? A sinking feeling in my gut made itself known. Stang, it couldn't be, could it? "I- uh, Human?"

"This Human female walked into the middle of it and killed them all. I am astounded a Human would come to the aid of a Duros, but she ran away before I could thank her."

"I, uh, I've gotta go," I mumbled as I ran out. I sprinted down the battered corridor to my apartment, hurriedly switched the door open and... nothing.

The room was empty.

I swear, some omnipotent force is watching me, and having a good ole laugh.

"Damn!" I cursed in frustration, slamming my hand against the wall. I shouldn't have left her. She must have woken up with no idea where she was and panicked. But to run out and attack Sith…

"What now, Onasi?" I sighed to myself. "Find the crazy chit, or leave her as dead?"

I couldn't do that, but my priority had to be Bastila. I forced myself to think rationally. I have to get some leads on Bastila... find out more about this Undercity. There's a cantina nearby, and I can ask around if anyone's seen Jen. If the Sith haven't captured her yet.

I opened the apartment's only closet to grab my lucky orange flight jacket, but it was missing. Shock assailed me for a moment.

She stole my jacket? Oh, this is personal now.

xXx

The Upper City cantina was overrun with pazaak players – a common way to make easy credits – but I didn't have a deck. Although with the way the Alpha Squad boys back at base kept kicking my arse, this might have been a blessing in disguise.

My mood was steadily declining. Being forced to rescue two females, both of whom I disliked, was enough to drive any sane man up the wall.

Calm down, Onasi. Cantinas are always a good place for easy credits and information. Best place to start. I could admit I was seriously annoyed that Jen had run off. Annoyed at myself, too. I shouldn't have left a severely injured comrade alone, with no idea where they were. But I didn't expect her to run off as soon as she woke!

I grabbed a chair and sat down, surveying the area cautiously. The cantina seemed out of place in Upper Taris, as it was mired in drunks, card sharks and disreputable spacers. I wonder how many of them are trapped due to the quarantine. Still, while I'd expected a classier joint, this was just the sort of place liable to provide information – for the right price.

A drunken male laugh caught my attention from the opposite corner.

"You're shure pretty! Yer shirt's gotta go, but you can shtay!"

Some seedy guy hitting on an unsuspecting girl, no doubt. Though she'd have to be pretty simple to fall for that one.

"An' fer an' off-worlder, you can shure handle Tarisian ale!" The guy was slurring so much he could almost pass for a Selkath.

"It's not bad," came the response; a woman’s voice. "Helps to drown out thoughts."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, trying to spot its source, but the inebriated fellow was in the way.

The man moved around her then, and I had a clear glimpse at the woman's face, shadowed under a mop of curly dark hair. I can't believe it, I thought in stunned disbelief as my mouth dropped open. That's Jen. She ran off to get drunk?

I was by her side before I knew it, staring down into surprised green eyes as I tapped her on the shoulder. "Are you drinking, Jen Sahara?" I hissed at her.

"Hey, leave her alone!" the fool blustered at me. "She's mine!"

I turned to glare at him. "Get out of here, this doesn't concern you," I said in a low voice, hoping the idiot would do the smart thing and leave.

Jen squinted at me, a blurry expression of confusion twisting her face. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused.

She is drunk. Great. That's just great.

"I'm getting you out of here, Jen," I said in warning, and then pulled her to her feet. I was once again surprised at just how little she weighed, despite her years. Looking at her I realized she had to be deep into her thirties. No, wait, her records said she was twenty-six galactic years. Well, health professionals had always lectured me on the aging properties of alcohol before I'd given it up for good.

"Hey, she's my date," the guy burbled at me, shoving my shoulder hard enough that I stumbled, losing my grip on Jen's arm. "You're spoiling my fun!" He had an ugly scowl on his face, and I didn't need to hear exactly what his fun would have been.

This could turn ugly. I need to get Jen out now. My blaster was in my free hand before I realized it. "Back off."

The man raised his hands in surprise, and tripped backwards. "I don't wan' any trouble!"

So much for keeping a low profile. I inwardly cursed myself. That was stupid. Starting a firefight in the local cantina is not the best way to hide from the authorities. Fortunately for me, the drunk was stumbling away, muttering under his breath. I turned back to Jen, nudging her towards the exit, but she pulled away from me in protest.

"I can walk! Don't touch me!" she hissed, and I realized that dragging a drunken woman through the streets of Upper Taris was about as conspicuous as pulling a gun on a drunk. I raised my hands in appeasement, and she lost her balance, abruptly stumbling against me.

Steadying her with a hand, the thought of her inebriated state once more flared my irritation. “I can’t believe you ran off to get drunk!” I condemned, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. There were definitely enough spectators watching our little scene, but fortunately all of them were viewing from a distance.

"I said don't touch me!" Jen snarled viciously, and slammed the palms of her hands into my gut. The air left my lungs in a whoosh and I fell backwards, hard on my arse, shock assailing me at her physical outburst.

The ugly look of violence on her face was enough to keep me sprawled there, silent, in the middle of the cantina. I heard a few sniggers from the nearby patrons, and my face warmed in angry humiliation.

As quick as lightening, Jen's expression changed to remorse, and then embarrassment. She looked around hurriedly.

"Are you alright, Miss?" A nearby patron came up beside her, shooting me a filthy glare. "Is this man giving you trouble?"

"No!" she said suddenly. "I overreacted. Sorry." She turned, fixing apologetic green eyes on me. "I'm sorry about that. I don't know what came over me." She offered me a slim hand to get up, and I stared at it as if it were a diseased gizka.

This woman is completely crazy. She's going to get us both killed. And now, she was acting stone cold sober.

I pushed myself to my feet and eyed her suspiciously. She still had that contrite expression pasted on her face, but the sheer venom of her earlier attack made me wary.

"I, uh-" I began, not entirely sure how to start.

"I guess we should talk," Jen muttered. "You're Onasi, right? Sit down, and I'll grab us some drinks."

"What?" I stared at her. More alcohol? My anger slowly burned back to life.

"Drinks as in caffa." She grinned suddenly, impishly. "But I almost got you going again, huh?"

I could only blink at her. First she's as violent and temperamental as a Sith, then she's all apologetic, and now she's cracking jokes?

Somehow, I was left gaping at crazy woman’s back while she strolled nonchalantly towards the bar. When Jen promptly returned with two steaming cups of caffa, I realized with a jolt I was still staring.

Jen glanced at me curiously. "Shall we have a seat?"

"Uh, sure," I muttered awkwardly, following her to an empty table. The noise in the cantina had resumed to its earlier hubbub of normality. While I would have preferred our initial conversation to have taken place in the hideout, it seemed relatively anonymous in here. And I'm not sure I could get her back to the apartment. I hate not being able to read people. What happened to the shy scholar back on the Endar Spire?

"I guess I should also apologize for running out," Jen muttered, staring into her mug.

"What, as well as for getting drunk, and causing a scene that could have brought the Sith down on us?" I grumbled.

She scowled at me, and I could see her struggling to remain calm. Despite myself, I actually felt a vague stirring of amusement as I watched her scrunch her face in a clumsy attempt to rein in her temper. It seemed to work.

"I've only had one drink. I'm not drunk, although I'm planning to be." Jen sighed, her eyes dropping back to the plasteel table. It was scuffed with beer rings and smears of grime. "I guess I owe you my life. Thanks."

I inclined my head, but wasn't prepared to let it go just yet. "Exactly why did you run out anyway? You're still injured. That knock to your head looked pretty serious." It did. Her hair was matted on one side of her head. The darkness of it hid the dried blood, but I'd seen the wound earlier. I wouldn't have expected her to be so mobile. I frowned. "I didn't think you’d wake up so soon. I, uh- I wouldn't have left, otherwise."

Jen grimaced. "Well, I'm definitely not feeling the best. As to why-" She lowered her head. "I woke up and heard shots outside. I thought people were coming after me."

Something in her voice didn't ring true. And she was avoiding my gaze.

"Before I knew it, I was in the middle of a firefight," she said in a soft, placating voice. "I just... panicked, and ran - and ended up here. I was planning to go back to the apartment."

Right. About as plausible as her sugar-sweet tone. "When? Before or after you got drunk?"

"After, I guess. I really am sorry, I just haven't been thinking straight." She caught my gaze then, big luminous eyes as if appealing to my better nature. Oh, that's not going to work on me, sister. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, lowering my gaze to the cracked cup of caffa nestled between my hands.

Jen continued quietly. "All I remember is waking up and grabbing this jacket and vibrosword, and running."

"No kidding," I muttered, but for the first time she really did sound genuine. I glanced back up at her. "And it looks like you've got ale all over my lucky jacket, thank you very much."

She spluttered on her caffa. "This orange monstrosity is a lucky ja-"

I cut her off. "So, injured and panicked, you decided to rush madly into some firefight, with no idea who or how many possible enemies there were?"

Jen actually blushed at that, a sign that my statement was accurate to some degree. "Yes, not the brightest thought, I'll admit."

"And then you decided to go down some Tarisian ale for the heck of it?"

She looked away once more. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," she muttered sulkily.

"You're not just reckless, you're insane," I said flatly. "Well, from now on, we'd better do things my way."

I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth, but there was no taking them back. Well done Onasi, lets just fire her up again shall we?

"We? Since when is there a 'we', Republic?" Jen demanded, her meek act vanishing like juma juice in a merc bar.

Republic? That almost sounded like an insult.

Jen's eyes flashed green daggers under her short mop of dark brown curls. Her face was pale beneath a natural olive tone, a handful of freckles across the bridge of her nose standing out in stark relief. Her sharp jaw was set stubbornly, and I reminded myself that she'd only just woken up. Dumb luck had kept her alive, but Jen probably had no idea what was going on.

"Taris is under Sith control," I explained. "This planet is locked up tight; I've heard the Sith are even arresting citizens carrying weapons without an approved permit. There's no way the Republic will be able to get anyone through the Sith blockade to help us. If we're going to find Bastila and get off this planet, we can't rely on anybody but ourselves."

Jen frowned at me, looking as if she was trying to figure something out. Her fingers tapped softly against the plasteel table. "You don't like the Sith, you want to rescue this Jedi girl, and you need to get off the planet. Fair enough, I get that. But where does this we come into it?"

My mouth dropped open in shock. She was one of the crew, dammit! "You swore an oath to the Republic, and to defend Bastila!"

"I never swore an oath!" Jen hissed. She breathed in deeply, and seemed to wrest control of herself once more. Her eyes squeezed tight, and the next words were forced out, hard and cold as ferracrystal. "I was hired by the Jedi Council to go to Tatooine on the Endar Spire. The ship's destroyed, so I consider that job complete. Besides, I'd just as soon get away from any Jedi."

"Your job isn't over – Bastila is still alive," I informed her coldly.

"I was never paid," she retorted, eyes open once more as she leaned back on the stool and folded her arms defensively. "As far as I'm concerned it's over."

She really would walk out, I realized, as I took in the obstinate expression on her face. Just another traitor to the Republic... but the Jedi Council requested her specifically. For some reason they need her, and I will not fail in my duty if at all possible.

"I saved your life, Jen." I hate emotional blackmail... but I don't really have a choice here. I need all the allies I can get, and so do the Jedi. "Even if you have no honour or decency, you still owe me a debt for that."

She visibly cringed, and for the first time genuinely looked like the unassuming academic I'd originally pegged her as.

"Help me rescue Bastila, and we'll call it even," I finished. This unpredictable loose cannon could then be the Jedi's problem, not mine.

She bowed her head, refusing to look at me. "Fine. I guess I owe you that much."

Relieved, I slouched back and had a gulp of the caffa. Terribly weak, I was surprised they could get away with selling it. Well, at least Jen's agreed. I hope that's the end of that conversation.

"How do you even know Bastila's alive?"

So much for that. "I don't. But Bastila's young, and she has a powerful command of the Force. We survived the crash landing, so I'm willing to bet that she may have, too."

Jen had raised her head once more, frowning at me. "Did other Jedi escape the Endar Spire then?" she asked.

"Some Republic soldiers did, but no other Jedi made it to the escape pods. Bastila was the only one." My shoulders slumped as I recalled the battle. I hadn't wanted to captain the Endar Spire, I'd wanted to pilot and lead snubfighters on the frontlines, going head-to-head with the enemy directly. And now, the Endar Spire was in bits, and near all the soldiers onboard dead.

"So it is her then," Jen whispered, seemingly to herself.

"What is her?" I asked suspiciously. She had a vague look on her face, but it disappeared as her attention snapped back to me.

"Uh, nothing," she mumbled.

Yeah right. Just who are you, Jen Sahara?

xXx

Chapter Text

Battling one’s thoughts

- Jen Sahara -

I felt like a spectator watching a duel. The pacifist versus the evil punk. Ten credits as to who would win, I thought sourly, but neither identity actually seemed to resonate with who I thought I was.

The only history I had – the past of meek Jen Sahara – was real. It had to be. I could almost taste the kakasi trees in bloom, and I remembered hero-worshipping my- no her- oppressive father. But in all those thoughts and memories, the way I interacted was so wrong. I couldn't imagine cowering and bowing to every whim of my family, and trying to please anybody but myself. Running from confrontations, and always trying to hide in the shadows like a helpless little tach. It was as if I'd been inside someone else's head, watching them as they lived out their life, but having no say in what they did.

And not even aware I’d had no say, until now. That was a terrifying realization that I was only beginning to grasp – the idea that I might not actually be who my brain was saying I was.

My recollection of the last year was where it all disintegrated. I could vaguely recall some Jedi contacting me and organizing a study expedition onboard a Republic cruiser. I struggled to remember what I’d been doing for the past six months; it felt like a dream – numb and almost forgotten. In between a history I didn’t want to claim as mine, and a present as hazy as a spice trip, it didn’t seem feasible that I could be Jen Sahara.

It wasn’t just the knock to the head on the Endar Spire, was it? A head injury couldn’t… change what you thought your personality was, could it?

Earlier, I'd had the instinct that it had liberated me - the real me. But what would that mean? That I was actually some sort of sadistic freak who wished to torture countless people for sheer enjoyment and power? I'd only felt brief flashes of this persona, but they'd been so sharp. Visceral, intense. Insane and inhumanely cruel. That identity wasn't me, it simply couldn't be.

And this isn’t even counting in that Bastila woman, I mused bitterly. So who was I really? The only explanation I wanted to consider was that I was a third person, who'd somehow lost her entire memory and had two others programmed in instead. Hmm, that sounds really plausible. I’m not sure I could even get the drunks at the cantina to believe that one. Not to mention that if I did entertain an idea so ludicrous – then the implications were shattering.

For it meant my mind had been royally messed up. By some very powerful people.

That heightened my terror further.

If there was any truth to it – and I then added in the additional factors of my Jedi guard and Jen’s mission to look at ruins – then it all had something to do with the sodding Jedi Order. But, could the Jedi do this sort of thing? Change someone’s history, someone’s personality, so thoroughly that they didn’t even realize it?

Isn’t that against their ethos, or something?

Jen Sahara knew nothing about the Jedi, other than that they were an almost mythical organization with fantastical powers who helped those in need. The least likely sort of people to deliberately do this to someone. It just didn’t seem plausible.

But I'm already involved with the Jedi. And I bet they don't want me remembering anything other than Jen Sahara, the pushover. I shivered.

The thoughts spun around and twisted in on themselves, a dark spiral of fear and anger and overwhelming confusion that battered against my psyche. I needed to act, to focus on the present, and leave this mental quagmire under wraps until a better time for reflection. A time when I wasn’t a fugitive on a Sith-controlled planet, hunting for a Jedi I had no desire to see.

Why did I agree with Captain Flyboy anyway? Part of me still logically reasoned how easy it would be to slip away and disappear, but my own code of honour wouldn't allow me. He did save my life after all. Hah! If I have a code of honour, then I can’t be the sadistic evil bitch.

I couldn’t be. It was worse than being Jen Sahara. I utterly rejected the idea that might be me, except…

…that power. It was another thing I was desperately trying to ignore. I’d sensed something back on the Endar Spire, something that Jen had never felt in her life. And I was certain – dead certain – that I could bend it to my will, if only I remembered how.

Instinct had me reaching for it earlier when Onasi grabbed me in the cantina, but my metaphorical grasp had closed on metaphorical empty air.

Is it the Force? The idea was fanciful, frankly unbelievable. But what else swirled liked electric energy around Force users? And if it is the Force, do I really want to wield it? If it was, then that linked me straight back to the Jedi, pointing another accusatory finger at their involvement in my current situation.

And once more, the horror reared up inside - accompanied with an anger vicious enough that all I felt was the desire for bloody vengeance.

Onasi was watching me now, his face clouded with suspicion. I’d pick him in his late thirties somewhere, with a strong handsome face and eyes the same rich colour as his chestnut hair. He had a guarded, combat-ready look about him, and I had the feeling he’d seen more than his fair share of action.

I took a deep breath in, filling my lungs with the re-circulated air of the cantina, and focused on him. I’d figure this all out later - for now, it was time to appease Onasi and start on this frelling Jedi hunt.

He was saying something about Bastila Shan, and despite my conviction to listen, the Jedi's name had my thoughts derailing once more. For I remembered being told about Bastila Shan back on the Endar Spire - a capable young Jedi who was one of the leading figures in the war against the Sith. I could even recall, somewhat hazily, talking with her on a few occasions. Each time, cowering in front of her like an awe-struck Jawa.

Yet I had been convinced, during the mad exit from the Endar Spire, that we were mind-linked. I didn’t even understand what that meant, not really, but the thought had come unbidden – stark and resolute and shining with certainty. I’d sensed her psychic emotions. She'd been alarmed at my fury.

Again, another conclusion that seemed wildly preposterous.

But it’s still there! She's still there! In my head. Flashing with anger and fright and desperation. Emotions coming from someone else, being felt by someone else. It was confusing enough that I genuinely had panicked when I’d woken up in the apartment and heard a commotion outside.

My head throbbed, reminding me of the injury at the root of these revelations. Brain damage, a dark voice mocked. Was that why I was hearing voices? Was that why I thought I was three people?

Carth was still frowning; if I couldn’t win him over, I doubted I could make a powerful Jedi believe all was well. And the last thing I wanted was her noticing the fractures in my mind.

For if I was aware of her... then surely, that meant, she was aware of me.

But suddenly the presence, Bastila’s presence, in my head froze. Like all emotion had been abruptly halted. What happened now? Some Rodian hit on her? I blinked. No... it's like she's fallen asleep suddenly… or been knocked  unconscious.

The mind-link was real. I was convinced of it, now.

"Hello?" Carth said. "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?" He was frowning at me again from across the cantina table, arms folded. At least none of the patrons were staring at us anymore, although earlier I'd wondered if the uptight bartender was going to refuse me caffa.

"Uh, sorry," I muttered.

"Yeah, I know, your favourite word," he grumbled. "Are you sure you only had one drink?"

"Yes." Calm. Stay calm. "But my head's been hurting a lot since I injured it. I've just been feeling really confused." That, at least, is the truth.

He didn't seem to buy it, judging by the wary look in his eyes.

"Look, I know I've been acting quite..." I sighed, trailing off in defeat. "Is there any chance we could just start over? My head is killing me, and I'm not sure how much more I can take. I haven’t felt… normal since I hit my head.” Even now it was throbbing with a dull ache. It had been reckless to run off, but I’d woken up in a strange place, bombarded by someone else’s feelings, and I’d bolted.

I hadn’t even realized what planet I was on until I'd started sweet-talking the sloshed local for information and a complimentary drink.

A look of concern crossed over Carth's face. Hah, I will get you eating out of my hand, I swear.

"Ah, I forgot," Carth said suddenly, and grabbed something out of his pocket. "I managed to get a shot of kolto. You'd better take it now; you still look pretty wretched."

I eyed it over suspiciously; the disposable hypoderm with the automatic needle could contain any manner of substitute disguised as a life-saving healing medication. For kolto was superior to bacta in strength, swiftness and shelf-life, and its synthesization was still in its infancy. The Selkath had only started mass-producing it during the Exar Kun conflict, and they held onto their monopoly tightly with their fishy little tentacles.

I froze. Jen Sahara knew nothing of this. Although kolto was heard-of on Deralia, it certainly wasn’t a topic of interest for the meek scholar of ancient civilizations. I’m not Jen Sahara. That was starting to become abundantly clear.

I’d taken too long; Onasi had sighed, dropping the tiny cylinder of doubt on the plasteel table, close to my hands. “It is kolto, I purchased it from a medical centre. I don’t blame you for being wary, but the doctor seemed reputable. I was lucky he managed to source any at all with the Sith quarantine starting to hurt trade.”

Seemed reputable. It wasn’t exactly a shining endorsement, but then again I had the feeling that Onasi wasn’t an overly effusive sort of guy. And reckless had been working for me thus far… I shrugged, picked up the hypoderm, and injected it into my exposed forearm.

A warm sensation hit my bloodstream, rippling slowly through my limbs. It felt familiar; my muscles loosened and the pounding in my head dulled almost instantly. While I doubted I'd be up to anything too intense - like, say, jumping into one of those betting duels next door that I'd heard cantina patrons gossiping about - at least I was starting to feel vaguely normal again. Kolto wasn't miraculous, but it wasn't far off: it had an amazing ability to vastly increase wound healing. I'd always compared it to a full-body bacta suit on adrenastims.

Again, my hands stilled. Definitely not a Jen thought.  Again, another indication that I was living in someone else’s body with someone else’s past. If I needed any more.

"So," I began, pushing the maelstrom of thoughts to the back of my mind. "Any idea where we should start looking for Bastila?" I took another sip of my caffa, but it was now cold. I grimaced in disgust.

"There are reports of a couple of escape pods crashing down into the Undercity," Carth commented quietly. "That's probably a good place to start. But the Undercity is a dangerous place; we don't want to go there unprepared."

The Undercity… Carth gave me a brief rundown, which was essentially the same information I’d drawn out of my inebriated admirer earlier. Taris was an ecumenopolis, a planet-sized city that had squandered its resources centuries ago and started building upwards. The Undercity Carth referred to were the dark, polluted depths tens of klicks below us – beneath even the gangs and crime that ruled over most of the subterranean levels.

Once, the Undercity had been the surface. A very, very long time ago. The drunk I’d spoken to said it was pitch dark down there, and the only inhabitants were mutant zombies that feasted on the homeless.

Although he’d also said he was the Tarisian swoop champion three years running.

I took a deep breath, and focused on Carth again. "Okay, so time to make some credits, buy some armour, avoid the Sith and find the girl?" I tried hard to come across as positive rather than derisive, but the entire quest sounded a bit suicidal. I'm Jen, remember? Play nice.

"Nobody will be looking for a couple of common grunts like us," Carth retorted defensively. He’d caught the sarcasm then. "And if we're careful, we can move about the planet without attracting notice – a luxury Bastila won't have."

Bastila was still frozen in my head, and I was beginning to doubt she’d be able to move at all. Carth was right, though, it should be fairly easy to stay inconspicuous provided I stopped acting like a stimmed-up thug with too much testosterone. Although I hadn’t been the one to pull out a blaster in the middle of a busy cantina.

On the other hand, all the patrons were now leaving us alone.

I shrugged off my internal monologue. “So, the Undercity. How do we get there?”

Carth hesitated before answering. "It's a long way down, and there's not a straight route. Because air traffic has been restricted by the Sith quarantine, we'll have to use the patchwork of turbo-lifts to descend. But... the Sith control the ones I've seen on the Upper City. They won't let anyone past without authorisation - and they'll be on the lookout for Republic fugitives. We'll have to find a way to get around them."

“Okay,” I said slowly. “I get the feeling we may need some more resources. I have absolutely no credits, Flyboy. You?”

“Very little.” He looked at me seriously. “And even if we do get past the Sith, we’ll have to go through the Lower City. From what I’ve heard, the swoop gangs and the Exchange rule the tunnels down there – and there’s been a lot of unrest since the blockade. I don’t fancy going there without a bit more equipment – food, a medical kit or two, a spare weapon.”

I nodded in agreement. And some cash reserves, I thought silently. In case we need to buy intel or bribe someone. Never hurts to have a little extra on hand. "So, we need to find an easy way to make some creds. There's a dueling ring next door I wouldn't mind trying when I'm feeling a little more alive."

Carth raised an eyebrow. "Yes, uh, I was pretty impressed with the way you took out those Sith soldiers back on the Endar Spire."

I could feel myself blushing. Stop it, already! Act like Jen, don't be her. "I think I get a little crazy in battle," I mumbled. My only evidence to back that up was the desperate fight on the Endar Spire, and yet... yet it felt true. Jen doesn't get crazy in battle. Stars, Jen doesn't even watch holo-flicks about battles.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Carth's tone was dry. Very dry. I glanced at him sharply, but his face was an inscrutable mask.

"Anyway," I continued, "got any other ideas for credits? Or should we think about looting what we need?" I immediately wished the words back, groaning inwardly. I shouldn't have said that. Judging by first impressions, Carth was a pretty straight-up sort of guy. Standard Fleet military - not accustomed to imaginative solutions.

A look of distaste crossed his face. "I'd rather not, but we may not have a choice. Unless you're any good at pazaak?"

I had a vague recollection of the gambling game. Mostly revolving around luck and psychology. "I'll give it a bash, but I need some cards."

Carth nodded in assent, and we left our table for the pazaak den. An old fellow named Garouk sold us his deck for fifty credits, which had Carth grumbling. When I took his last forty for wagering, he almost expired on the spot.

"Hey, it was your idea," I snapped, as he glowered at me.

"Okay, okay, you're right," he conceded. "Just- you better make that back. We're totally broke now."

"Just watch me, Flyboy." I winked, and walked off. I didn't feel the confidence I was portraying, but the game couldn't be too hard, surely? Garouk had explained the rules, and I was certain some part of me had played it before. If only I could remember. Somehow, muscle memory had kept me going since I’d awoken on the Endar Spire, and thrust into circumstances well beyond Jen’s capabilities. As long as I didn’t stop to think, luck seemed to be riding with me.

Pazaak was a simple card game that required players to get as close as possible to a score of twenty, without exceeding it. But it was by using the sidedeck – cards that added bonuses and specials – that the game became interesting.

I did not yet have a sidedeck.

There was small change to be had in the junior group of players who clustered around a circular table near the front of the room. Garouk had pointed me there as a starter, and I calmly introduced myself and watched for the first round before being challenged by a wide-eyed Rodian.

There were more non-Humans in the cantina than outside, that was obvious. I wondered how many of them were planet-stranded by the quarantine.

I was cautious with my play, inwardly trying to calculate the odds even as I found myself irritated by the simplicity of the game. None of the juniors had a side-deck, so we were all evenly matched. There was a Twi’lek in the group doing the best, crowing over a pile of tokens that seemed to be about a hundred credits’ worth. Soon, I found myself up forty or so – due to no more than dumb luck - while some of the others began to look distinctly crestfallen.

A large figure approached the table.

“Alright, pissants. Who's game enough to wager against me?” the stranger taunted, crossing his arms and smirking at all in turn. The Twi’lek scooped up his pile silently and scuttled away; I blinked in surprise as the rest followed suit. Even the Rodian who’d played me at first - the only other one to be up a significant amount – was quick to disappear.

“Wow. You sure know how to clear a room,” I said dryly, shooting him an unimpressed look.

“You were playing against a bunch of pathetic aliens. Of course they run when they see their superior coming.” He smiled and sat down across from me. I felt a surge of intense dislike towards the xenophobic idiot. “My name’s Niklos. Let’s play a game or two, huh?”

I’d almost made back the initial deposit on the cards. We still needed credits. And yet, this patronizing Human was obviously well-versed in pazaak if the juniors were so reluctant to play against him.

“Don’t be a coward,” the man cajoled, the corner of his mouth twitching in a sneer. “Since you’re new here, I’ll even double my bet to sweeten the game. You’re not going to scurry away like the rest of those sewer rats, are you?”

My eyes narrowed. That was a good deal, and yet I felt suspicious. Let’s try one game only. I won’t do anything stupid. “Ten credits,” I said briskly, slipping two 5-cred grey tokens out from my pile to the centre of the table. “Let’s play.”

He laughed, a sound as irritating as a slag grinder, and nudged four greys to meet mine. “Alright,” he acquiesced, eyeing over my small pile of credits as if working out how much I had. Niklos began the match by turning a card face over, and after a few deals was up to a score of 13.

He held, flipping no more cards.

That’s overly cautious, I realized in surprise, and the next deal saw me up to 16. With a barely restrained smirk, I gathered in the tokens.

“Let’s play another,” Niklos offered, and he didn’t sound upset at the loss. “I’ll put in forty to your twenty, this time.”

My eyes narrowed on him. If I win, that’ll net me a neat one hundred creds, I realized. If I lose, I’ll be back down to forty. The odds were good, and I inclined my head in agreement.

He played the same as before, standing on a low 14. It was curious, considering the way the others had left so prematurely. He’s a jerk who verbally abuses aliens. Maybe they just don’t like him. My 15 trumped his, and I couldn’t contain the smile as I surveyed my growing pile of credits. Maybe this would do something to improve Onasi’s opinion of me. I glanced over to the far corner of the room where he sat nursing another cup of caffa, throwing the odd inscrutable glance in my direction.

“Thanks for the games, Niklos,” I said mildly, standing.

“Don’t run away like that spineless tailhead,” Nikos said, his voice oily and condescending. There was a twisted look of derision on his face, and I felt my jaw clenching in irritation. “I took you for someone with a little courage. Sit down, and play one more deal with me.”

“I’m smart enough to call it a good day, Niklos,” I said, my eyes narrowing.

Niklos spat to the side. “Pathetic. You’re as pathetic and cowardly as those disgusting non-Humans you hang around with.”

I could feel the anger stemming up inside. He’s a worm that I should grind beneath my boots. My hand twitched in a desire for violence that was insidiously dark and ugly in its intent. I am not Evil Bitch. I will not lash out at such obvious provocation.

Not to mention that we were trying to remain inconspicuous. I took a deep breath inward, and pushed the rage back down.

“I’ll triple my deal,” Niklos offered, pulling out three hundred-cred tokens. “One last match – your winnings versus mine.”

It was too good a deal to refuse, and I found myself seated once more. As the game started, though, Niklos’ posture changed from guarded watchfulness to overt confidence. And as he pulled out his side-deck, I realized with a humiliating wave of emotion that I’d been played.

This was his plan all along, to clear out my winnings. Sithspit! My vibrosword was still at my side. It would take one motion to slice him open from throat to navel, and pull out his intestines in front of his horror-filled eyes.

No, no that’s awful! Jen whispered in shock. No, no that’s suicidal, I countered. The Sith, remember? The stars-cursed Sith. But the fury didn’t dissipate. There was a buzzing in my ears, and I felt almost detached from the situation as an electric sensation began to resonate within me.

It sharpened as Niklos used a special card to bring his total to 18. He smirked in victory.

The hairs on my exposed forearms lifted, as if a static cloud had engulfed me in raw energy. Words tumbled out of my mouth, unbidden and instinctive and laden with meaning. "You should try for twenty. I bet the next card's a two."

"I – I think I'll try for twenty," he told me, in his thick accent. His eyes were round and slightly glazed. “I believe the next card is a two.”

It was a 7. The charge I felt in the air vanished, and I suddenly felt less alive.

And afraid. Surprised, and a little afraid.

“Thanks Niklos, I’m out,” I said hurriedly, grabbing his tokens and standing. Goosebumps rose on my spine. Niklos was staring at his pazaak cards in utter confusion. I brushed past an Aqualish who’d been watching, and ignored his startled glance as I rushed back to Onasi.

My heart was thundering. That’s not normal. I did something, there. My fists were clenching, fingernails biting deep into the flesh. Niklos would likely trail after me soon, trying to bait me into another game. I wanted to get out of the cantina, now.

I jerked my head towards the entrance, and Onasi followed me as I cashed in my credits, his brows raising in surprise.

“Whoa, sister, that’s a fair haul,” he murmured, looking vaguely impressed. “I, uh, I was worried when you started playing Niklos. One of the patrons told me he liked to prey on the new players.”

I didn’t respond, heading silently out of the pazaak den and towards the cantina proper. Did I use the Force without realizing? I wondered in bewilderment. Is that sort of thing possible?

“You didn’t tell me you were a card shark,” Onasi prompted, a question in his voice.

"I- well, I was lucky," I muttered. He shot me a disbelieving look. Parlour tricks and diversion, a voice sneered. That was child’s play, you moron. 

I flinched, and accidentally bumped into a seated Human dining near the front of the cantina. She turned to glare at me, surrounded by a handful of well-dressed friends.

"Hey, watch where you’re going, cantina rat!” she snapped. Coloured ferracrystal gleamed from her lobes and around her neck. “I thought the help here was supposed to be in uniform, not dressed as gutter trash! Where are my drinks, you useless waiter?”

Heat pounded through my veins, surging from before, an electric darkness that all too easily overwhelmed rational thought. “Shut up, you spoiled brat!” I hissed. My fists clenched as I glared. Her gaze dropped to the visible vibrosword at my side, and she stood, backing away.

“How dare you speak to me like that!” She took another step back, face whitening in outrage. Her friends gathered to their feet, soft and rich and all edging away alongside her. “You will regret this, you low-born schutta!”

"You know, when I said nobody would be looking for us-" Carth's voice in the background slowly dispelled the red rage consuming me- "it went with the assumption that we'd be acting inconspicuous. Silly of me to assume that about you, I know." He sounded- well, more irritated than anything else. As the anger fled, it irked me that he was right yet again.

"I'd apologise, but you'd probably just complain again," I muttered. To my surprise, he actually chuckled.

"At least things don't get dull around you," he commented. "But in all seriousness, you- we- need to look and act like common Tarisian citizens. Yelling at aristocrats is not the way to go."

"I'll get better control of my temper." The annoying part was that he was right – these flashes of irrational anger were dangerous. To our mission, to our survival, and maybe even to my own mental health. And I’d prefer not to receive another lecture from him. But the noblewoman had taken me by surprise – the pazaak game had taken me by surprise – nothing made any frelling sense.

"For someone who's fairly shy, you sure do have one heck of a short fuse." He said it like a question. I knew he was wary of me, with good reason. He didn’t know the half of it.

I just stared at him in mute response, and he raised his hands in entreaty. "Okay, okay! I'll drop it – for now."

Hah, that almost sounded like a threat. Bring it on, Republic.

xXx

…

“Keep your eyes closed. And sit still!” the man admonished as I wriggled my toes. With effort, I stilled once more, attempting to block out the discomfort of sitting in one position for too long.

“Focus on what you can hear. Only your hearing. Stretch your senses out,” he continued. He’d have me reciting all the various noises I could pick out, and then chastise me for missing half again as much. But with my eyes closed, it was hard to ignore the stench: the refuse and the rot and the unwashed stink that permeated every corner of Altizir's Western Underground. My sense of smell overpowered my hearing no matter how I practiced.

My best friend didn’t understand why I stayed with the man. Everyone thought blind old Freeflight was just another crazy – mind gone to rot under the shackles of poverty and desperation. We were all trapped in this miserable slum, penned in like bantha behind automated turrets that cut down any Uncitizen who dared dream of escape. It wasn’t uncommon for a sentient’s mind to break – and crazies didn’t usually last long, after that.

But Freeflight was different. He wasn’t crazy. Just… fascinating. His strange stories, his odd exercises, his dreams of a galaxy far, far away from this miserable place that drove desolation into everyone’s soul.

Sometimes, I felt like I was breathing his dreams in, tasting them in my mind, visualizing myself out there in the stars, somewhere.

My best friend thought hope was dangerous, but I didn’t care. And I didn’t care if it was me supporting Freeflight these days – scavenging for scraps that couldn’t really be called food, or dragging him to safety during another Enforcer raid. I didn’t care.

It hadn’t always been this way.

If not for Freeflight, I would’ve died a toddler, squalling over my mother’s corpse. He was the only family I had, and I loved him as fiercely as a true daughter could.

“The creaking of plasteel boards,” I muttered, barely repressing a sigh. My nose twitched at the stars-awful smell. “The trickle of the sewer pipe flooding again. Snores of a half-dozen sents shivering around the corner.”

“Good,” he murmured, giving my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Now list at least another six.”

…

I woke with a start, breathing in audibly as I sat bolt upright in bed. What was that? I wondered in shock. A dream? It was the most vivid dream I could ever recall having, sharp and intense with both emotion and clarity... and yet, as I struggled to focus on the details, they were already slipping through the cracks. Something about hearing an old man? An old man I cared for? In a slum? The dream blurred, fading into the soft forgetfulness that was common with consciousness.

But... the feeling of caring- of wanting to make someone proud- lingered, even as I scrubbed tiredly at my face and urged myself to focus on the present.

My shoulder ached and my head throbbed, demanding my attention away from the fragments of the dream. I groaned softly, rolling my shoulder. Ahhh, what I'd give for an adrenastim. A drink would be almost as good.

Carth was asleep on the floor, after insisting that I take the bed. He's one of those traditional heroes, probably likes to open doors for ladies and rescue helpless victims. If only I could reliably act like one, I smirked to myself, then I might have a better chance of getting him onside.

I glanced down at the chronometer – Jen’s personal one, attached firmly to my wrist and now adjusted for Tarisian time. There were hours until dawn, and I highly doubted I’d be able to fall back into restful slumber. Moving about might loosen my muscles. With a nod to myself, I slipped out of bed quietly, so as not to wake the Republic pilot.

Silently, I changed into a set of drab clothes Carth had given me after sulkily grabbing his flight jacket back. I rolled my eyes at the memory. Republic pilots and their lucky charms.

Thoughts like that still struck me by surprise. Jen had never met a pilot before, other than the odd crop-duster. Until the Jedi came, of course. But if my head injury had caused some sort of mental delusion, then why did all my reactions scream of a life completely at odds with Jen Sahara’s?

Because I’m not Jen Sahara. I knew that now, but it seemed I needed constant reminding. Because the knock to my head freed me, or at least cracked the prison wall enough to let the light shine in.

Bastila was still out cold in the back of my head, like a frozen ice-pop, occasionally reminding me of her existence. I wondered briefly what this Jedi was like. She seemed snooty, all high and mighty, from what I heard of her. And very young, to have been given command of a Republic cruiser. I sighed, and turned my thoughts to other things. Bastila was one of the many topics I had no plausible answer to.

Well, time to scope out this building, I told myself as I stealthily walked to the door. There was no way I was going to wake Onasi up for this one, as I fully intended to loot whatever I found. I'd filched a low-grade tech spike from the inebriated lout who'd bought me a drink, and I was starting to wonder if I'd been a thief or street kid of some description. I feel like I know how to break into places. I can't remember it though. Jen wouldn't dream of breaking in anywhere, and I can't imagine Evil Bitch fiddling around with a lockpick. It'd probably be beneath her, I thought sourly.

The dark circular hallway was abandoned, and I walked up to the nearest door, listening intently for any sounds. Nothing. Either nobody's home, or someone's asleep. It didn't bother me greatly either way, and some dim part of me realized I was acting rather reckless. But hey, we need the credits. Ever since I'd woken up with a head injury and contradictory personalities on the Endar Spire, I'd been taking the crazy road. It seemed like the best way to stop thinking.

With a practiced hand, I automatically keyed into the tech lock and bypassed the security. The door swished open. I blinked, stunned. Muscle memory, again. I've done this a lot. Where? Why? I wish I knew the truth.

xXx

An hour or so later, and my mind was disintegrating once more. I leaned against a corridor wall, shaking, sweat beading down my forehead. I can't go on like this. I keep hounding myself for control, and I keep failing miserably.

It had been fine - the first three apartments. I hadn’t really expected to find much, and other than a small stash of credit chits and a long, concealing coat I fancied, I’d walked away from the first two places empty-handed. The third, however, was the jackpot. Obviously some shady dealings took place in this grimy excuse for a building, as I was fortunate enough to stumble on somebody’s rather impressive stash of weaponry. I’d noticed a small pile of stims on the table first – those I’d be keeping secret from Onasi. From there, pilfering a pair of blasters, a vibrosword, and a handful of grenades was automatic; I’d hesitated on what looked like some sort of modified Mandalorian assault rifle. Honestly, it was amazing what some people left lying about.

But the next apartment...

The findings had left me careless; I’d waltzed in without checking the place was empty. Reckless. I’d woken a couple of Bith who’d mistaken me for an Exchange thug, and immediately started begging for their lives. The sense of superiority and rightness that had swamped me overwhelmed any other thought. One of the Bith had cowered from his small bunk, pleading in a high-pitched tone for more time. Whatever their problem with the Exchange was – I hadn’t cared; all that mattered was that they feared me. From somewhere came the conviction that this was how the galaxy should be. I am to be feared, and obeyed.

“Don’t hurt us!” one of them had begged. And as quick as a kath hound, my feelings had changed. How could I do this? Break into some poor creature's apartment, and terrify them so? I should be begging their forgiveness, offering to somehow make up for this slight!

I’d settled for running out of there.

Anger, hate, and self-loathing swirled through my mind in an explosive mix. I was losing control; my mind was waging war with itself and no matter how it turned out – I’d lose. I shuddered against the wall. Staying here – not far from the Bith’s apartment – possibly wasn’t in my best interests, either.

I closed my eyes and swallowed. I need to put more effort into this. I need to be Jen, until I'm in a safer place and have time to work it all out. I can do it, if I just try a little harder.

With shaky new resolve I took a deep breath, and opened my eyes again. Time to head back and drop off this loot.

I lifted my chin, and began the trek back.

It was second-nature to avoid the gazes of others, while remaining aware of their presence. In the alien quarter of Upper Taris, sents were treated like scum, and wariness was inbuilt into every resident. Being Human, I stood out.

So did the sobbing woman who sprinted past me before mashing her hand against an apartment door-control.

Guess I’m not the only one with issues. Still, there was something about her tearful state and desperate posture that pulled at me. Maybe… maybe, I wanted to prove to myself that I was one of the good guys. That I wasn’t Evil Bitch.

“Are you okay?” I called out, as the apartment door swished open under the woman’s trembling hand. “Do you need help?”

She shot me a wild look over her shoulder. Attractive and well-attired, she seemed a strange prospect to be roughing it in this rundown complex. She’s hiding. Running from something. Just like me.

“Do you want to talk?” I asked, lowering my voice.

“I-” She closed her eyes, shoulders sagging as she leaned against the open doorway. “All I want is my life back.”

Her voice was crisp and well-enunciated. Core accent. Chandrilan, maybe Coruscanti. I'd guess well-educated, too. Probably stranded on Taris because of the quarantine. I felt my fist curl tightly against my side, recognizing yet again another observation that Jen Sahara would never formulate. Like she could recognize Core accents.

“Well, the offer’s genuine,” I said, suddenly aware of exactly how I appeared when the woman’s eyes re-opened and appraised me. A cagey expression crossed her face as her gaze lingered on the vibrosword strapped at my waist. Not even the long coat fully concealed it. “Or, I could just leave-”

“You’re a merc,” she guessed, blinking. “Trapped on Taris, just like me. I- would you like a job?”

“I-” I halted, my eyes narrowing. “A job?”

Immediately, my mind sharpened on the thought. We need the credits. Doesn’t hurt to hear the woman out. She was nodding at me, a sudden eagerness brightening her dark eyes, even as she was still sniffing back tears.

“Yes. You- you can stop people for credits, right? I- I wouldn’t ask… and I’ve only got fifty-four credits left… I mean, I wouldn’t dream of asking this… but he said- the bastard said-”

“Whoa.” I held up a hand, forestalling any further explanation. She wants me to kill someone for creds. A bounty. A murder. For creds. The thought should have rattled me more than it did.

We need the credits. Fifty-four isn’t a lot, but we need everything we can get. And- she’ll just ask someone else if I refuse.

With a wary glance down the empty corridor, I motioned her inside. “Let’s take this somewhere a little more private, alright?” I couldn’t forget the Sith I’d run into, minutes after waking up on this planet.

“O-okay.” She walked inside, stumbling a little, while leaving the door open for me to follow.

The apartment beyond looked similar to mine and Onasi’s – small, brown, and bereft of furnishings other than a bedroll and a torn cushion in the corner. The kitchenette was streaked with dried stains of caffa grinds, and the only visible crockery was a sole plasteel plate on the bench.

She hadn’t been here long.

I glanced back to the woman; she’d dropped down on the battered cushion, hugging her legs to her chest.

“A fighter like you, you probably think I’m pathetic,” she muttered. “It’s just- I was only on Taris for a brief academic flyover- then the quarantine forced me to stay and… I thought he was so charming! Interested in my mind! And then- then the bastard wouldn’t stop pawing at me and…” she trailed off, dropping her head onto her knees.

“You want me to kill a man who took advantage of you,” I said flatly, laying out the specifics. We need the creds, my mind repeated coldly. Besides, last thing this galaxy needs is another creep who won’t keep his hands to himself.

“I want you to kill him because he put a four-hundred credit bounty on my head!” she burst out, her head jerking up and her dark eyes blazing fiercely at me.

My mind froze over. My muscles clenched. Four hundred credits. That would double what we have now.

“He wouldn’t keep his hands to himself, even when I asked him to stop!” she raged. “I pulled out his shiv from his belt- I didn’t mean to cut him, just make him back off. But Holdan’s a spiteful little Hutt-slug! And now I have every wannabe bounty-hunter after my head, and I just want to get off this cursed planet!”

Dark thoughts raged like wildfire. Four hundred is a lot more than what she’s offering… and she’s standing here right in front of me! There was a trembling in my limbs, a tearing in my head. No! She’s an innocent woman! The drab apartment blurred in front of me. I felt my hands hit the floor. But I need the credits, and if I don't kill her someone else will, so what's the problem? Cool plasteel pressed against my face. I should be helping her get out of this, the poor lady! How can I even contemplate something like that?

I could feel someone shaking me. "Are you alright? Wake up! What's wrong?" I opened eyes to see the woman I'd been talking to shake me gently. Her face was taut with concern.

Concern for someone who is thinking about killing her. That really puts me in my place.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, and pushed myself up. "I really am – forgive me. I've been sick recently, and obviously not recovered."

"What are you doing up and about then?"

"Overdoing things, I guess." With her help, I scrambled to my feet, and my head cleared. The voices fled, leaving only a residual nausea. I sucked in a shaky gasp of air. "I'm sorry about your plight. I wish I could help, but I'm not the merc you took me for."

"Oh." She swallowed, unmoving. An easy target. The look in her large eyes was unbearably sad. "Well, thank you for listening at least. My- my name's Dia, by the way."

I stared at Dia for a frozen moment, before a hand moved to my belt on automatic reflex. I’d hooked one of the blasters there, back in the apartment that’d yielded so much weaponry.

Her eyes widened as she caught my movement. She scrabbled back, horror tightening her face-

“Have this,” I said, my voice coming out cold and calm. I strode towards her, offering the blaster grip-first to the cowering woman.

Dia blinked, before tentatively clasping her fingers around the weapon.

“Bounty rules,” I said flatly. “If the victim kills the one who placed the bounty, the deal's off. Bounty-office keeps the creds, but at least you get your life.”

Where were these words coming from? Cold and calculating, even as the burn of emotion raged through me. I didn’t want any part of this. Not even to help Dia. I didn’t trust myself not to turn on this academic from a Core world, this soft woman who was a lot more like Jen Sahara than I seemed to be.

“I- thanks,” she said, swallowing again. The blaster hung limply in her grasp, and although I found myself wishing for her survival – I didn’t believe in it. Not truly.

She’s got a better chance by herself than with me. There was a sour taste in my mouth.

“Go- go see a doctor, okay?” Dia suggested, throwing me a weak smile.

I gave her a short nod, turned, and left the apartment.

xXx

It wasn’t a bad idea.

Dia’s last words kept repeating in my head as I dumped the loot back in the apartment. Fortunately, Carth was still soundly asleep, snoring gently in the corner. I certainly wasn’t up to any sort of grilling about my whereabouts; not yet.

Go see a doctor, okay?

But what the frell would I say? Hi, I think I’m three people, and I’m going crazy? Yeah. That’d go down well.

No, I can't tell anyone about this. If I have to keep it from a Jedi then I'd be stupid to let a doctor know.

I was wide awake still, and far too edgy to stay lurking around a sleeping Carth Onasi. A walk. A walk outside might clear my head. Before I knew it, I’d completely cleared the apartment complex, and was striding out into the Tarisian courtyards.

Other than the odd patrolling Sith and a couple of drunks harmlessly singing off-key, Upper Taris was pretty empty. Dawn was just starting to pink the horizon.

I need to control this, I thought determinedly. I can fight these thoughts. I know I can. I had an intuitive belief that I could do whatever I set my mind to, provided I was determined enough. I'll beat this. And I'll convince everyone that I'm still sweet Jen.

I felt a little more at peace. A little. I’d better head back before Onasi wakes. With a deep breath, I turned, and started heading back to the hideout.

I can do this. No problem. I'll be fine.

A voice from the dark depths of my mind whispered something. Overconfidence. You were always too.... but I couldn’t recall the rest.

xXx

Chapter Text

  Blaster Boy

 - Carth Onasi -

…

The endless black of space was scythed through by the sparking of blaster turrets; I banked the snubfighter sharply, and a Sith starship materialized within torpedo range. My eyes narrowed, and my grip steadied on the controls.

I depressed the firing button, and a second later the enemy ship detonated in a bright flare of victory.

…

Consciousness slowly trickled in. I stretched drowsily, eyes still closed, feeling a yawn split my face as the image of the frontlines receded. It'd been a restless night. My sleep was normally the dreamless slumber of those who'd spent their life in the military: bodies and minds trained to draw in as much rest from whatever hours of downtime one could snatch. I was accustomed to waking instantly, alert and ready for action.

Taris, I'm on Taris. My mind slowly kicked into gear. Chasing down a Jedi with a Coruscant-sized ego, and babysitting a lunatic whose personality changes more often than her clothes. Thank you, Admiral Dodonna. I opened my eyes and stretched, loosening the kinks from my spine. The floor was hard and cold beneath the ratty blanket I lay upon - but I'd insisted on Jen having the bed. I wouldn't dream of forcing an injured comrade to kip on the ground - although her look of sardonic disbelief when I said as much almost made me consider it.

I turned my head at the thought of her. Empty, rumpled sheets met my gaze.

"No way," I groaned hoarsely. Something lurched in my gut. "You've got to be kidding me!" I should've anticipated this- dammit! Maybe part of me did. The disappointment gritting my teeth didn't exactly feel unexpected.

I heaved a great sigh as I sat, running a hand through my hair in irritation. I had no idea if Jen would return- if she was off drinking again or simply done a runner- but I had to focus on finding Bastila. I couldn't afford to waste precious time scouting around for a firebrand who could very well endanger any rescue attempt with her unpredictability. Right. I'll check the cantina, and if she's not there, then I'll have to move on. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

I stood in grim determination, kicking the blankets to one side. After splashing some water on my face and grabbing my jacket from the locker, I noticed a pile of gear on the floor. I frowned - that hadn't been there last night. What's this?

A backpack, about half full with 'frag and flash grenades. A spare blaster and a vibrosword sticking out of it. A dark sort of resignation settled in my heart. Is this Jen's way of apologizing for disappearing? Sorry I'm running out on the Republic, but here, have a grenade?

I sighed. I knew she wasn't trustworthy, I thought sourly. Damn you, Jen Sahara.

Suddenly the door opened, and the very scourge of my thoughts walked in.

I stared at Jen in surprise. Her short dark hair was a mess, sticking outwards as if she'd never heard of a hairbrush, and the tatty beige shirt she wore hung untucked over loose-fitting trousers. "I thought you'd run off!" I blurted out.

Jen shot me a smile, small and peaceful.

"I just went for a walk," she answered. The intonation of her voice was serene and subdued, but her face was pale. She had the dusky skin tone of someone whose natural dark tan had faded from months spent indoors.

Just a walk. Right. "Are you okay?" I asked suspiciously. I didn't believe her when she was acting meek, angry, or peaceful.

"Yeah. Had a stroll around Upper Taris."

The explanation was vague, and I didn't buy it for a second.

"Picked these up on your stroll, did you?" I muttered, pointing accusingly at the backpack.

"I- well," Jen hedged, evading my gaze. A faint colour flushed high on her cheeks. "It's amazing what you can find lying around."

Uh huh. A thief to top it off. Although – let’s face it – we could use the gear.  I was unsure whether I should lecture her or inventory her loot.

"I know what you're thinking," she told me flatly, green eyes meeting mine. "But the sooner we're equipped, the sooner we can find Bastila, and surely that's what you want?"

"I guess," I grumbled, trying not to frown. "Not sure I really approve, though."

Jen rolled her eyes, one shoulder lifting up in a dismissive shrug. "Fine. I'll stop stealing then."

Yeah, right. I'm not buying that either, sister. "Okay," I said slowly, remembering the old adage to pick one's battles. At the end of it, Jen had obtained what looked like a useful amount of gear. I could only hope the acquisition of it would not bring us any unwanted attention. "How about we start the day with breakfast?"

There was a sudden growl from her stomach, and the side of her mouth twitched. "Guess I'm with you on that one, Flyboy."

Jen was ready to go after pulling on a concealing dark coat I didn’t recognize. I took a few minutes to make myself presentable, and then we left, avoiding the food synthesizer in the public corridor by mutual consent. As an almost-free source of nutrients it was likely something we’d become familiar with – after all, a mere one-cred fee for a meal couldn’t be ignored by those tight on cash. But the grey slop from the machines was highly unpalatable, and the cantina had boasted in-house fare for five credits the previous day.

We had Jen’s pazaak winnings, so a hot meal at the cantina was definitely on the cards.

As we wandered outside, Upper Taris still impressed with its grandeur and sweeping architecture. Modern buildings stretched deep into the morning sky, which was strangely bare with the lack of air traffic. But below… below was the real Taris. We couldn’t see it, protected as we were by the corrupt trappings of wealth and privilege that cloaked the Upper City - but it was there.

We'd almost reached the cantina when a shout rang out over the courtyard. I turned, my gaze immediately honing in on a lavishly dressed Human gesturing at us. A Rodian and an Aqualish flanked her. The latter appeared to be cracking his knuckles.

Stang! I recognized the woman - the noblewoman Jen had threatened yesterday. I suppose it's too much to hope they'll leave us in peace.

Next to me, Jen stiffened, like a kath hound bristling to attention.

"That's the cantina scow!" the woman cried, still pointing. The thugs advanced, the Rodian smirking in crude anticipation. I couldn't see any weapons on them, but this was Upper Taris, after all. The Sith were liable to arrest anybody waltzing around with a visible blaster – even the supposed bodyguards of whoever this noblewoman was. My own weapon was concealed, strapped to my side, hidden under the trusty jacket Jen had been pulling faces at.

"I don't want any trouble," I warned, in a tone I hoped would convince them that I was the real trouble. The Rodian laughed, a mocking trill of disbelief. I'd been in enough brawls to recognize the inevitability of this one. Here's hoping we scare them off quickly – before we attract any attention.

"You should be more polite to your betters, gutter scum," the Aqualish hissed in passable Basic, directing his comment to both me and Jen.

Jen tensed at my side; I had an irrational moment of worry for her safety before reminding myself of the fight I saw on the Endar Spire. Two thugs won't be an issue for us. It's catching the eye of the Sith that's the real danger here. At least we were round the side of the cantina in a small cul-de-sac, partially hidden from view of the open courtyard.

I glanced at Jen; by unspoken agreement I took a step forward to face the stockier Aqualish. He launched himself forwards, closing the distance in five strides, and I held my ground right up until the moment his fist punched out in a roundhouse. I side-stepped, grabbing his arm and using his own momentum to hurl him to the ground. As I jumped forward to straddle him, his legs kicked up deep into my midsection. The air burst from my lungs as I staggered back, momentarily winded.

There was a gurgled scream to my right; jerking my head sideways, my eyes widened as they fixed on Jen. She was snarling. And- and- wielding a vibrosword stuck in the Rodian's side. In a Sith-controlled area!

The Aqualish, struggling to his feet, gasped audibly as he, too, turned to look.

Snatching the opportunity, I jumped forward and crashed my fist into the Aqualish's jaw.

There was another shriek from the Rodian. My guard was raised, my eyes on the Aqualish- but, to my surprise, he retreated swiftly to his friend's side, who was now clutching at a bloody wound along his ribs.

"Aww, what's the matter?" Jen taunted. "Two ickle Humans too tough for you?"

"Jen!" I snapped. First she pulls out a vibrosword in broad daylight, and now she's egging them on? The Aqualish growled, his face contorting in anger, but he stayed still as the other thug leaned heavily on him.

"If we see you again, you won't be so lucky," the Aqualish spat, supporting his friend with one hand and cradling his bruised face with the other. For all that I was trying to avoid this sort of scene, I couldn't deny a twinge of smug satisfaction at the reddening visible on the Aqualish's face.

Jen laughed; a cold, malicious sound. “Go on, run like the little cowards you are.” She gave a dismissive, insulting wave with one hand.

“Jen, stop it!” I stormed over to her, ready to shake some sense into the crazy woman. “They're leaving! We don't want the atten-”

My words died as her gaze snapped to mine. The look in her eyes... rage. Senseless rage. I took a step back at the insane glow of bright green. She's a berserker. Don't charge a berserker in full swing, idiot!

In my periphery, I was aware of the Aqualish retreating, dragging his wounded friend along with him. The aristocracy had run off a long time ago. But my attention remained fixed on Jen. The battle lust storming through her face was enough to - if not scare me, then at least make me very wary.

Jen shuddered, and the rage fled. Shock, followed by something akin to anguish, crossed her face. Her gaze dropped, to stare numbly at the bloodied weapon still clutched in her hand.

“Put that away – it’s broad daylight!” I hissed, deciding it was safe to berate her again. The thugs had now disappeared, but already I could see two gaping Tarisians eyeing us from a distance.

She didn't reply, still staring unblinkingly at her weapon. A small spark of concern inched through my anger.

"Jen, what is it?" I asked sharply.

"I could have sworn..." She looked up at me, brow furrowing in confusion. "I could have sworn my blade glowed red there for a minute."

"With the way you go berserk, I wouldn't be surprised if everything you saw was red," I muttered, striding down the cul-de-sac. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

"Well, at least we managed to scare them off." She laughed weakly as she followed me around the cantina building.

"You're lucky the Sith weren't around," I grumped at her. "That was inordinately thick of you. All those idiots wanted to do was rough us up a bit – all we needed to do was get the first blow in. But no, you had to shove a vibrosword – how in the blazes did you manage to hide that, anyway? We're not in the Lower City yet-"

"Onasi-"

"-stang, the Sith rule up here Jen, so much for being blasted inconspicuous-"

 “Onasi!”

“What?” I snapped, stopping to unleash a furious glare at her. To my further annoyance – and perhaps even mortification – she looked amused. Amused.

“You’ve walked right past the cantina entrance,” she said mildly.

I opened my mouth, processed her words, and snapped it shut again. She nodded to the door – which I had indeed strode right past – a smirk curving her lips.

“Anyone ever tell you that you curse more when you’re angry?” she teased.

My brows lowered further. In some alternate universe - if things hadn’t been so dire - maybe I would have laughed with her. Maybe. “This isn’t some sort of game,” I made out between clenched teeth. “This is serious. Dead serious.”

She stared at me mutely for a minute, before an exasperated look crossed her face. “Okay, so flashing around a weapon outside is probably worse that pulling out a blaster in a cant-”

She at least had the sense to refrain from completing that sentence. I stood glaring at her silently until at last her expression eased into something approaching resignation. She sighed softly. “You’re right. I’m sor-“

"Don't!" I bit out. Not another apology! Peace, I think I like her better when she's angry. "Look," I sighed, my hand on the cantina door. "Let's just go eat something, alright? And then I might take part in some of those duels."

"You?"

"Well, who else?" I said sharply. "I happen to be pretty accurate with a blaster. And if you think I'm going to let you partake in those duels when you'd probably kill everyone in sight, then think again."

Her brows slammed down. There was an intense look about her narrowed eyes, as if she was struggling between anger and compliance. She really doesn't like to be told what to do, does she?

"Fine, you do the duels," Jen muttered, after a drawn-out pause She almost sounded- sulky.

I couldn’t help a small, victorious smirk.

We both calmed down over the bland cantina meal; a plate full of root vegetables smeared in a hot brown sauce, but infinitely preferable to synthesizer slop. I kept an eye warily on the exits, not quite forgetting the Tarisian citizens who’d noticed our stand-off with the thugs. I assumed Jen was making an effort to behave, what with the sickeningly meek act she kept up as we ate. The shy, polite comments she issued were both forced and annoying.

Better than the rage, Onasi, I reminded myself. I’d known a berserker, once. A Bothan trooper I’d fought alongside when my squad had been grounded on Rodia, holding back a Sith advance. The Bothan went completely crazy in battle, his strength and speed impressive even by his species’ standard. His commander later told me that they all stood clear of him during combat – but outside of it, he was the quietest and most polite person she’d ever known.

Jen was quiet… sometimes. But I didn’t buy it. Her sassy, irreverent comments were more genuine than the shy ones. And distinctly less annoying.

We lapsed into silence as we finished our meal, and then headed next door.

The organizer of the duel ring was a Hutt named Ajuur, and he seemed pretty eager for fresh meat in the ring. Of course he is - more credits for him. Sithspawn Hutts, the lot of them. But if I was cautious and played it right, it should be good money for us, too.

Ajuur was busy laying down the law of dueling in Basic, with a thick, garbled accent. According to him, there hadn't been a fatality since death-matches were outlawed some years back. Permanent disfigurements and disabilities, on the other hand, he glossed over, and instead diverted the conversation to weapon selection.

"We like to encourage variety, but most duelists prefer melee combat as the ring's small," Ajuur slurred. "There's some who stick to ranged. The best fighters, ahhh- the best ones are flexible. Anything goes, really, as long as it passes our health and safety regulations. We even allow grenades - only the non-fatal ones, of course."

"Grenades," I said flatly. "Are you sure no one ever dies? Why do I get the feeling you're trying to take us for a ride?"

The Hutt laughed. The fleshy rolls of his gut shuddered with each booming chuckle. "Ho ho ho! The duel ring has energy suppressors. Your choice of weapons will be examined and limited before you enter the duel, but we keep a medic droid on hand in case of serious injuries." He paused, leaning over to grab a juice lizard from a nearby pail. The glooping noise as he slurped it into his wide mouth made me grimace. "So, Human. Are you interested?"

Jen nudged me from the side. "Here," she muttered, waving a blaster at me grip-first. "Want to use two?"

I stared incredulously at her. "You had a blaster hidden on you as well?" I ignored the mental voice that pointed out the gun strapped underneath my jacket; I wasn’t hiding a vibrosword, ready to whirl it around outside where the Sith could spot us as soon as we waltzed into the first hint of trouble.

She shrugged, not answering as she looked down at her coat. It was then that I realized just how concealing it was. She's probably hidden a whole arsenal underneath that, I thought sourly. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was Mandalorian.

I took the profferred blaster. "Thanks," I muttered, before turning back to face Ajuur. "I'll do it."

"Good – new blood for the ring!" he rumbled. "But you need a nickname, like Ice or Deadeye or Twitch. Good nicknames make sentients bet more. Hmmm... what’s a good nickname for you?"

"Anything will do.”

"Well, you're new here. People won't recognize you." Ajuur shrugged, looking over me dispassionately. "Sents like a handle that has a certain mystique to it. How about 'Mysterious Stranger'?"

Jen snickered.

Cliché. But I suppose it could be worse. "It'll do."

"No, call him Blaster Boy," Jen suggested. There was a teasing glint in her eyes as Ajuur swung his beady gaze on her. "If he’s going to use two guns it’s perfect."

"Really?” I countered, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. That sounds like some cheap action holo-vid star. “I think I’d prefer Mysterious Stranger.”

Jen was holding back a snigger, her face cut with a wide smile of glee. Ajuur grunted in what sounded suspiciously like consideration. “We'vee used ‘Mysterious Stranger’ on the last two off-worlders, it's losing its appeal." Ajuur nodded to Jen. "And 'Blaster Boy' does have a certain ring to it."

I groaned, rolling my eyes at Jen. “Honestly. Could you think of a tackier name?”

"Stop arguing, Blaster Boy." Jen was still grinning. I mock-glared at her. "Time to get ready for your first duel!"

xXx

Well, I suppose I could call it a productive day, I thought, as I limped slowly out of the arena. I hadn't expected the last duel to be so tough, though.

I'd taken out the first two duellists with no real problem, but that Ice had been a rough challenge. Best to quit while I'm ahead... and between these six hundred credits and Jen's pazaak winnings, we should be set for the Undercity.

The day was almost over, and I felt like crawling back to the apartment and closing my eyes. You're getting soft, Onasi. The medical droid was quick to heal any deep damage, but I was left with some superficial bruising and burns. The tiredness was the real kicker though. I felt exhausted.

Jen was having a drink by the bar as I walked slowly over to her.

"You're not trying to get drunk again, are you?" I asked in suspicion.

"Why not?" she countered. "We're set for credits now - tomorrow we can buy our gear and find a way down to the lower levels." She took a long swallow. "Seems like a perfectly good reason to have a few drinks."

"No way, sister," I said coldly. "You lose your temper easily enough when sober. Getting drunk is just begging for Sith attention."

"You're pretty obsessed with the Sith, you know that?" Jen drawled, raising her eyebrows in what appeared to be disparagement.

"What, because I'm trying not to get caught?" I snapped. With an inward sigh, I lowered my voice. "We're fugitives, remember? Attracting notice is not a good idea."

She shrugged. I wasn't sure if her apparent unconcern was genuine - but it was definitely dangerous.

"They've left us alone so far."

"Out of sheer luck more than anything else," I returned, trying to hold her gaze and impart the seriousness of our situation onto her. Blast if she isn't the most frustrating woman-! "Look, Jen, that fight with the woman's thugs earlier? That's the sort of thing we need to avoid. That's the sort of thing the Sith will notice."

Jen's gaze dropped to her hands, resting on top of the stained bar. An introspective expression crossed her face as we both dwindled into silence. Let her actually take me seriously for once, I thought. I can't deny she's useful in a fight, but I can't help but think she's more of a liability than an asset.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips. "Onasi, what... what made you decide to join the Fleet?"

The unexpectedness of her query had me stiffening. I looked away, uncomfortable. "I've always been a military man. My homeworld's a member of the Republic – but even if they weren't, I'd still have joined. It doesn't take a genius to figure out which side is the right one."

"You think it's all that black and white?" Her voice was surprisingly neutral, for such a question.

"Oh come on," I said, exasperated. Where is she going with this?  "It's obvious that Darth Malak's a ruthless tyrant who'll crush anyone who gets in his way... just like his master Revan had been. Experience has shown that the Sith won't stop until the Republic lies in ruins. Malak and his forces don't respect anything except raw, brutal power."

"Sounds like Malak and the Sith have the right idea," she muttered.

My jaw dropped of its own volition, and I stared at Jen in shock - which quickly gave way to blistering incredulity. "How can you even say that?" She can't be serious, surely? Not even someone as crazy as her could really mean that? All the colour drained from her face, and I dimly recognized it as something she clearly hadn’t meant to say. Didn't stop my tirade, however. "The Sith are butchers! Soldiers, civilians, I mean they don't care who they kill! Even... even children!"

"I didn't mean to say that!"

"Then why did you?" I snapped. I can't believe she would even think it! Maybe things would be better – and safer – if I was just by myself.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I guess I was just trying to hassle you again."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you go too far," I said coldly.

She started to apologise, then thought better of it and stared silently at her empty glass.

We didn't talk for the remainder of the day.

xXx

Chapter Text

Tricks of the mind

- Jen Sahara -

We’re getting nowhere, I thought resentfully as we trudged through Upper Taris. I really annoyed Onasi last night, and we still don’t have any clue how to get down to the lower levels. I scowled at Carth's back as he stalked ahead of me. We’d spent most of the morning investigating any turbo-lift within reasonable distance – all, without exception, were guarded by black-clad, unmoving guards.

Carth had been at a loss on how to get past the Sith, but hadn't appreciated the idea of knocking the guards out. Spoilsport, part of me muttered. Okay, so attacking the Sith in broad daylight was a fairly dim-witted suggestion, but the angry side of me was just clamouring for some action – besides, I thought to myself, it wasn’t like Blaster Boy over there had any better ideas.

We’d taken a detour earlier to visit the nearby ‘Adventurer’s Emporium’ – which, considering the empty shelves, had once seen better days. The owner, a Kebla Yurt, spoke to us at length regarding the Sith quarantine on Upper Taris. As we already knew, public inter-level movement was currently prohibited, be it by air traffic or turbo-lift. And the Sith were offering hefty rewards for information regarding any Republic fugitives, which caused Carth to tense, and me to smile politely.

The lower levels, however, had erupted into gang fighting, and the Sith presence down there was all but overwhelmed. Kebla informed us that the two largest gangs – the Hidden Beks and the Vulkars – were engaged in a messy war for supremacy. Even the Exchange was involved, acting as hired thugs or bounty hunters for both sides, depending on which offered the most credits that particular day.

But perhaps that wasn’t surprising. The recesses of my brain that definitely did not come from Jen Sahara knew about the Exchange. As the largest spice smuggling, slave trading and bounty hunting criminal organization in the galaxy, they had either political or economic clout in most systems. Before the Sith had gained prominence, the Exchange had been the true rulers of Taris, hiding behind puppet politicians and corrupt aristocracy.

But the gang war… that changed things, and could, perhaps, present opportunities. When coupled with the lack of Sith presence in Lower Taris, I wondered whether it would be safer to permanently move our hideout downwards.

If we could actually find a way to get there.

We’d stocked up at Kebla’s, and now both carried rucksacks full of ration bars, medpacs, and utility tools such as light-rods and spare datapads. Unfortunately she didn’t have anything really useful – like a decent tech spike or bio-scanner – as the Sith came in every now and then to audit her stock. From the way the woman’s mouth had curled when she explained that, I assumed they did more than just audit.

It was my third day conscious on Taris, and today – with luck – things would start happening. Carth and I were both determined to find a way down to the Lower City and start our mission proper. No matter that Kebla warned us the place was overrun with warring gang members - if anything, it would only make things more interesting.

Interesting?  A meek voice squeaked in my head, both alarmed and appalled. I felt my mouth tighten. It wasn't like any pathetic gang minion would pose a threat to me. Reckless, a thought whispered. Maybe it's the direction we have to go, but there's no point being a frelling idiot about it.

An abrupt surge of dizziness slammed into me like a vibro-ax. I've always been labelled reckless, haven't I? Speckles of darkness clouded by vision, and I could hear my heartbeat, fast and furious, in my ears. Someone said something rudely; I was vaguely aware of stumbling, of being shoved, of falling from a great distance...

…

“This is reckless,” a man muttered behind me, as I stared at the large doors inset deep within the cave. The blue light radiating from his lightsaber illuminated the barrier in front of us; my eyes were fixed on the unfamiliar sigils inscribed around the edges of the door. “Stars, you’ve always been reckless, but we’ve no idea what’s beyond this other than some ancient technology we don’t understand. Are you sure the threat-”

“Yes,” I cut in, mildly exasperated at the same conversation replaying once more. “What I found suggests this leads to something powerful enough to aid us.” My concentration remained anchored on the door. There would be some mechanism that would let us through. I had but to find it. “This is the perfect time, when those scared fools believe we are merely here to gloat about our success.”

He sighed, and rested a hand on my shoulder. “I know. They’re angry with us, all of them. They won’t even stop to listen, to consider how badly things could have gone, had we sat back and done nothing-”

I huffed, my focus temporarily broken, and took the moment to lean back against him. “I’m still furious at them. Years of blood and tears and sacrifice and finally the Mandalorian Wars are over – and yet they treat us like errant children. Like - like we did the wrong thing! How can they even think it?"

I felt his lips press into my hair. “Because we disobeyed them. You knew this might happen; we both did. Should they let us stay, we’ll be separated for sure. I won’t let that happen. Not again.”

"We won't be staying," I murmured, stepping away from him to concentrate once more. My hands pressed lightly against the cold door; it was made of some metallic substance I didn't recognize. My companion moved to flank me, the dark blue of his 'saber our sole light source. "This place is my one objective for coming to this planet. I only need to figure out how to open the door."

"Jen?" A voice called distantly.

"Have you tried just giving it a push?" he asked. There was an obvious smirk in his voice, a teasing tone I hadn't heard in far too long. The sound was welcome, but deep down inside, an insidious voice told me not to get used to it. For the dark paths we had already walked were about to get darker.

In the end, we would do what we had to do.

…

"Jen? Wake up!"

"Oh," I groaned. "Of course I tried that, jackal-brain."

"Say what?" Onasi's puzzled voice shot through my sluggish thoughts. "What's wrong with you?"

I blinked as Carth’s features slowly swam into view. The faint glare of the Tarisian sun stabbed into my eyes. Somehow, I was lying on the ground. "Uh, where am I?"

"In the middle of Upper Taris, giving me quite a scare," he said wryly. His eyes were warm with concern as they stared down at me. "What happened?"

"I – I fainted," I muttered, sitting up and clutching at my head. It was pounding with renewed force, as waves of nausea washed through me. What was that? That wasn't Jen, and it couldn't be Evil Bitch... was that the real me? Sun and stars, I don't understand any of it.

"That was quite a faint, then." Carth’s expression warped to suspicion. Again. "You were muttering something about a door."

"I think I was dreaming," I replied woozily. A dream? A vision? A... glimpse of the real me? But the details... so stark and crisp and clear at first, had begun to unravel with mounting speed. Something about the Mandalorian Wars? Had I... had I fought in them? It might go some way to explaining my reflexes back on the 'Spire. There was a man in the... memory, too. He had a lightsaber....

The specifics of the memory-dream were fuzzing at the edges, blurring rapidly the longer I tried to clutch onto them. But if I could just hold on to the core details-

"Give me a hand up, would you?" I snapped as Onasi continued to eyeball me in frowning concern. He reluctantly helped me to my feet. I noticed people staring, and glared at the crowd defensively.

"Let's get some lunch first," I muttered. "I probably didn't have enough to eat. Then we can work out what to do next."

He nodded briskly at me, and thankfully dropped the subject.

xXx

We sat eating in the cantina, another bland meal of colourful vegetables I didn’t recognize. The sauce was white this time, and tasted faintly of socks. I grimaced, and vowed to try the public synthesizer next.

"So," I began, "there's got to be entrances to the Lower City not guarded by the Sith."

Onasi had been watching me like a Roonish hawk since I'd fainted. I couldn’t work out what was stronger – his concern or his mistrust. I was grudgingly aware that my behaviour warranted both.

"I doubt it," he responded slowly. "They've locked this planet up tight; they're taking no chances with Bastila getting away. We need to somehow get past the Sith."

Bastila was still unconscious inside my head. It unnerved me, the thought of her waking, the idea she might be able to sense me... to sense the conflicting emotions I was failing to master. She might know what's wrong with my mind, Jen whispered. I scowled. She might be the root cause of it.

Carth noticed my glowering face and quirked an eyebrow in question. I hastily schooled my expression, shrugged, and muttered sarcastically, "we could always jump off one of the platforms.”

"Oh yes, you're such great help," Carth snapped.

I really should stop saying things like that to him. He's such a nice guy. I scowled again. Shut up, Jen.

"Well, I don't know,” I grumped. “We could try buying our way past.”

Carth actually seemed to mull that one over, which surprised me. I’d picked him as being too straight-laced to consider bribery, but obviously he was adjusting to the environmental parameters – which was a good thing, too, if we were to have any chance of extracting Bastila successfully.

"That would possibly work,” he said at last. “But I don’t think we can afford the time required to build up a big enough sum. Small change won’t be enough. Not to countermand orders from high up."

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Maybe that’s true for the soldiers you’ve fought with, Onasi. But corruption is rife anywhere if you just look hard enough. "Alright, let’s just steal some Sith armour, and pretend we're on their side then." It was a jest, mostly. That Sith full-body armour was very concealing.

Carth frowned at me. "Lunatic ideas I could do without."

"Got any better suggestions?" I shot back tartly. Because so far, I haven’t heard much from you, Republic.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Why don't we try talking to one of guards?"

I sat back, considering. We'd only spot-checked the turbo-lifts from a distance, unwilling to come close enough to engage in conversation. I hadn't seen any Tarisian citizens lurking next to the formidably armoured guards, so they likely didn't welcome idle chitchat. But that didn't mean it wasn't worth a shot - who knew what information we could garner if we were clever about it. "Good idea. Let me do the talking though – you're too conspicuous."

Carth blinked at me. “Say what?” He sounded genuinely befuddled.

“Everything about you screams military, Flyboy,” I drawled, eyeing him over. “I suppose you could pass for an Exchange thug with a soldiering background, but it’s risky, considering that the Sith are on the hunt for Republic soldiers.” I allowed that logic to sink in for a moment, before adding, “let me find a guard to sweet talk.”

A highly disbelieving look crossed his eyes which set my hackles rising. “Sweet talk? You?”

“What did you think I was doing when you tracked me down in the cantina?” I snapped.

“Getting drunk.” The reply back was quick, succinct, and pretty darn truthful, actually. But I had been gathering intel about a strange planet under the guise of drinking, with a head injury to boot. My instincts took over. It certainly wasn’t the behaviour of a meek scholar.

I pushed my plate away, and stood. “Watch me at work, Onasi, and learn.”

I turned and stalked away, trusting the Republic pilot would catch up to me. By the time I’d entered the outside sunshine, he was once more walking at my side. My stomach full and my head clear for the first time since the Endar Spire, I had a good feeling about the rest of the day. Hopefully that would be enough to stop me having another spell. Faints and visions I can do without, I thought grimly. It's just confusing me all the more.

The sunlight reflecting off the marbled buildings and ferracrystal windows showcased the city's urbanized soul, and hid its true depths beneath. The people strolling quietly along the grand courtyards gave the place a peaceful feel.

But cracks were evident, if one looked close enough. Sith patrols skirted the edges of the commercial plazas, causing nearby Tarisian citizens to scurry away in caution. Multiple soldiers guarded every turbo-lift we came across - anywhere from three to six of them - which made me wonder if the Sith had any sort of standard operating procedure, or were still scrabbling to tighten their hold on the Tarisian transport network.

Instinct propelled me to keep moving, to keep searching. Somewhere, I hoped, would be an exit to the lower levels with a smaller guard. A sole soldier we might be able to find a way around, but three or more was getting beyond tricky.

Our path took us through a maze of towering apartment buildings that were emblazoned with the insignia Czerka Condominiums. Tinted windows rose up majestically on all sides, but also blocked out a fair amount of natural light as we silently cut between them. Carth rested his hand on his hip warily, above where his blaster was concealed.

It was effectively a small maze of alleys, and with surprise we found them to be deserted. Turning a corner, I could see the sunlight ahead that signified the end of the high-rise buildings.

A few metres into the bright light, a pair of armoured Humans loomed menacingly over an old man. My muscles tensed in reflex, halting any further movement, keeping me safely concealed in the shadows while I took in the unfolding confrontation.

Carth stilled at my side, the briefest puff of air his only indication of surprise. I sensed rather than saw his finger slowly unclip the gun at his belt.

To my astonishment, one of the Humans up ahead raised a blaster. In full daylight- in an obvious, overt motion. Their audacity was surprising - there might not be any Sith around right now but that didn't mean they weren't lurking beyond the next corner. Yet these thugs – both wearing heavy combat suits that were jarringly out of place in the Upper City – hardly seemed concerned about starting a firefight in broad daylight.

They're Exchange thugs. Garbed for combat the way they are, they've probably come up from the lower levels. Which immediately posed the question - how are they getting around the Sith quarantine?

"But I don't have that much!" I heard the old man cry. "How can I give you credits I don't have?"

I moved to evade the incident, giving them as wide a berth as possible to get past – more because of Onasi’s continued hounding at staying inconspicuous than any real desire to. Part of me wanted to barge up to the creeps and tell them to sod off and leave the harassed man alone, while another part just wanted to join in what looked like an oncoming fight. I thought I was rather restrained in ignoring both desires.

"That's too bad," one of the thugs responded in a sinister voice. "You brought this on yourself, you know. Davik can’t afford to let you run free for no cash return. But don’t worry, I promise it’ll be quick.”

Ah, Davik, the Exchange boss Kebla warned me about. These guys probably paid the Sith to turn a blind eye to their operations. That’s how they get around. If they were Exchange agents, then it made sense to ignore the confrontation altogether. To my surprise, Carth nudged me surreptitiously.

I quirked an eyebrow at him, and he nodded sharply towards the old man.

"Look, I know we have to be careful about drawing attention to ourselves," Carth hissed, "but are we just going to let them drag this guy off?"

Well, he doesn’t need to convince me.

"No – help! Somebody help!" the man yelled, glancing around frantically. “They’re going to kill me!” He spotted us further back in the shadow of the apartments, and his eyes gained the fervent glint of the desperately hopeful. The armoured goons followed his gaze just as Carth’s hand inched underneath that ghastly jacket.

I really had to dispose of that orange eyesore soon.

"Well, well," one of them drawled, as he eyed us over. "Looks like we got ourselves a witness here."

The second guy sneered. “Davik doesn’t like witnesses.”

I could feel a smirk forming on my face, and reckless took over with swift ease, dominating any caution or reason. "I don't like your attitude," I mocked. "I'd better teach you a lesson!" With the words flowing from my mouth, my hand shot underneath the dark coat and withdrew my vibrosword.

"Guess we have to teach you to mind your own business!" the first man yelled, swinging his blaster away from the merchant to point to me. Hazily I was aware of Carth edging over to the right to get a clear shot, but my mind was mostly focused on one thought: I need more time. The distance between me and the thugs was about twenty metres, and they were already aiming ranged weapons at me.

I need more time.

My muscles tensed as I began to sprint towards them, and suddenly everything around me seemed to slow down and stretch. The first Human had already loosed a blaster shot in my direction, and I saw the laser beam coalesce toward me like a slow-motion holovid replay. I dodged to the right, just in time. It seemed an eternity until I reached the thug. He was halfway to drawing out a stun baton when I stabbed my blade into his throat. His scream ended in a drawn out gurgle. Music to my ears. I turned to face the other guy. No! Killing is wrong! He was already falling to the ground, shot fatally by Carth.

My surroundings snapped back into place instantly, and I staggered as time took on its normal speed.

What... what the frell just happened? Carth walked over to me, shoving his blaster back underneath his jacket. He doesn't look alarmed. That speed... that eerie feeling... it happened to me alone.

"Wow, you're fast," Carth said in amazement. Something close to respect passed over his face. "Crazy, but fast!"

I forced a fake smile on my face, struggling to contain how unsettled I felt. Better not mention it to Onasi. He already thinks I'm nuts as it is. It had possibly saved my life, though. I couldn't ignore that.

"Thank you – I owe you my life!" the old man gushed in disbelief. "Those bounty hunters were going to take me away and kill me! My wife warned me not to take a loan from Davik."

My eyes shot to the man; he was positively shining with awe and gratitude. You should have listened to her, then. What kind of idiot borrows credits from the Exchange and then can't pay them back?

"Now I can't pay him back. It's not good to owe a crime lord money." Well, duh. "He'll just keep sending more bounty hunters after me until I'm dead!"

I shouldn't judge him, Jen commented piously. Maybe I can help.

"You already helped me by saving me from those bounty hunters!" the man continued. I blinked. Sithspit, did I say that out loud?  "So unless you have a spare hundred credits to give me so I can pay off Davik, there's nothing else you can do."

We do have spare credits, now. My hand was delving in my pockets automatically, coming out with a handful of plastic, disposable chits. “Here’s a hundred credits, take them.”

No! I’m a brainless space slug! What am I doing?

The man lifted his hands up, a look of stunned awe creasing his worried face. I stalled as I made to release the chits into his grasp.

He needs them more than we do, Jen whispered.

He needs a blaster shot to the head. The best use for a moron like this one is fertilizer! Evil Bitch sneered.

That’s… that’s simply despicable!

I shuddered, and dropped the plasteel tokens into his grimy paws. Shut up. Just shut up – both of you! There was a faint easing in my mind, as if the conflicting voices backed away a few steps. My breath released in a rush, and I forced a friendly, fake expression on my face.

"You're giving me a hundred credits? Just like that?" the man spluttered. "I- I don't know what to say! Thank you! Thank you!"

“Generous,” Carth murmured at my side, and the old man smiled tremulously at us both before slipping the credits into a pocket. He bowed and left, muttering something about paying Davik. My gaze slid to Carth, who was looking at me in vague surprise. Maybe this will assist at convincing Flyboy I’m one of the good guys. Maybe that’s a silver lining, at least.

For we might be kitted up for the Undercity, but we certainly weren’t in a position to be throwing away credits on any needy passerby we crossed paths with.

I nodded at Carth, not willing to let myself talk. My mind was in turmoil. I'd given that money away without thinking. It seemed I needed to control Jen as well as Evil Bitch. I'm going mad. I need to get out of Taris, off this planet. Carth began striding away, and I followed him in a daze. He was keen to leave the area - and the corpses - well behind. I will. I will get out of here - just as soon as I rescue Onasi's girlfriend.

Would it be that simple, though? Would a Jedi let me go? Maybe killing her would be the better option. No, that'd be suicide. That'd be wrong!

My mouth twisted and I rubbed at the side of my head, overcome by a sudden surge of dizziness. I said, shut up! I had to stop thinking. I had to stop my mind warring with itself.

And I wasn't going to kill anyone unless I had to.

"Jen?" Carth's low voice caught my attention, and I belatedly realized I'd halted in the middle of a smallish retail courtyard. "You okay?"

I smiled, half-aware it likely looked like a pained grimace, and nodded abruptly. "Just a headache. I'll do."

He was frowning, eyes dark with worry. "Maybe we need a rest day, Jen. Maybe we should head to the Free Clinic instead." His gaze trailed up to the side of my head.

No, I didn't want to think. I wanted to act. And not just for my sake- "Every day risks Bastila, Onasi. I'll be fine." I looked away from him, surveying the boutique stores that lined this open area. In the middle stood a carved statue of a grim-looking Human, either made from ferracrystal or a cheaper variant of transparisteel. It sparkled in the golden Tarisian sunlight. And beyond, across the other side of the plaza, wound a small cul-de-sac that ended in the familiar durasteel shaft of a turbo-lift.

I saw the shape of one, sole, black-clad Sith soldier.

I felt a genuine grin curve my lips, and nudged Carth. "There," I murmured. "It's time our luck changed." He glanced in the direction I indicated, and his tight expression eased. When he glanced back to me, he was almost smiling. "Leave this to me, Onasi."

The conflicting emotions vanished like quicksilver as a sharp focus rose to cut through my mental turmoil. I strode forward, mind clear now apart from a thrumming confidence. I could do this. Chin up and shoulders back, I walked through the narrow cul-de-sac and approached the guard with a friendly expression.

The Sith spoke before I had a chance.

"Move along, citizen." The words were monotonous and bored. His tinted visor turned to face me.

"I just wanted to talk to one of our heroes," I gushed, stepping closer. I beamed at him. "How are you finding Taris? The streets are so much safer now you're here!"

There was a lengthy pause, and I felt a prickle of foreboding. He's not interested in flirting. And I'm too old to be playing the part of a worshipful teenager. The confidence dove-tailed into a flare of anger.

"This elevator is off-limits," he told me stonily. "And you need to learn the art of subtlety. Only Sith patrols and those with the proper authorisation are allowed into the Lower City."

I could just imagine Carth's knowing expression further behind me. My failure was embarrassing, but even more so- I felt angry. It shouldn't be so hard to just talk to the guy. In fact, getting past him should be a frelling cake-walk. The anger flushed heat into my cheeks, and I was suddenly aware of a charged prickling in the air. I hurriedly pasted on what I hoped was my most beguiling smile. "Where can I get authorisation?"

"If you were supposed to have it, you'd know where to get it!" he snapped. My frustration peaked and the static sensation intensified - almost as if I'd zap the first thing I touched.

"Now quit wasting my time and move along." The Sith flicked his hand in a dismissive wave.

Use the power at your command, you blind idiot. Instinct eclipsed my consciousness, and then I was speaking without any forethought at all.

"We wouldn't cause any trouble down there," I said, my words slow and deep.

"I – I guess you wouldn't cause any trouble down there," the guard returned, this time in a hesitant voice.

The hairs raised on my exposed forearms, and still the dark instinct prevailed. “So you can let me and my friend through.” The words dropped in the air like invisible ferracrete bricks, each one solid and powerful and commanding.

"I can let you through," the guard echoed in a dull tone, and stepped aside.

A hot rush of confusion swamped me, clouding my thoughts and emotions. I felt beads of sweat break out on the back of my neck, and yet somehow I was cognizant enough to just keep moving. Sun and stars. This is the Force. What else could it be? I glanced over my shoulder to see Carth, jaw dropped, staring at me as my hand pressed on the elevator control and the doors opened. Carth would have been too far away to hear the actual words spoken, but I’d still need to explain my success. Somehow.

I threw Carth a tight smile and motioned him into the lift. He strode forward, and we were silent until the doors closed and the lift began a slow, creaking descent.

He cleared his throat. I raised an eyebrow at the brown eyes staring guardedly at me. “What in the blazes did you say to him?” he asked, his voice a blend of suspicion and confusion.

“I told him we wouldn’t be any trouble,” I replied, inwardly wincing. Somehow, I had the feeling I was usually better at cover stories. Although, it was the truth. I forced a grin that I hoped was impish rather than false. “I dunno. Guess he thought I was cute or something.”

There was a loud grinding noise from above, and we paused, staring warily at the elevator’s ceiling. As the lift continued to decline without any difference in its velocity, we both relaxed.

Carth turned to face me again. “Seriously. Even the Sith have standards.” But his mouth was twitching, and I threw him a pretend glare. “What exactly did you say?”

It wasn't what I said, Captain Flyboy. It was how I said it. It had to be the Force. The speed earlier, against those thugs. The final pazaak game. I had no idea what I was doing, and it was overwhelming.

"I already told you, Onasi." I shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know why he let me past. But it's a good thing he did."

We lapsed back into silence, and I was aware of Carth taking my measure, staring at me from behind those damn wary eyes of his.

"Do you know," he said slowly, "I've seen Jedi talk their way past people in a similar fashion. And you were onboard the Endar Spire due to a specific request by the Jedi." Carth drew in a breath and looked away before continuing. "I learnt a long time ago that something which looks like a coincidence probably isn't. Especially when the Jedi are involved."

I snorted. “What, you think Jedi Shan took me aside to teach me Force tricks every rest day?”

“I, uh, no-”

“I saw her a handful of times, Onasi,” I said flatly, speaking over him. The memory was fuzzy and indistinct, much like the rest of my time onboard the Endar Spire. “The only other Jedi I saw was that hefty Cerean who kept throwing archaeological extracts my way. Stars, all I did there was read the sodding archives.”

I couldn’t remember the Cerean’s name, other than he was old and a Jedi, like Bastila Shan. But I wasn’t interested in recalling details right now – I was interested at throwing Carth off-balance enough that he’d stop questioning matters. For, I knew, he had every right to be suspicious.

His eyes narrowed. “Look, it’s just a lot of things about you don’t add up, okay?”

“Like what?” I snapped defensively. He certainly wasn’t prepared to believe I could sweet-talk my way past a Sith guard. That actually rankled a bit.

“Well, uh- I don’t know, how about the fact you survived the crash?” His words were low and irritated, and I could sense he was slowly getting wound up.

I stared at him blankly, confused. Isn't that just as odd as him surviving? "You'd rather I hadn't?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he shot back. "It just seems odd that someone Bastila's party specifically requested to transfer aboard happened to survive."

What is he saying? My brow twisted in annoyance. Carth’s suspicion was warranted, but I couldn’t follow his logic here. Why was it less trustworthy that the survivor had been contracted by the Jedi? I looked away, stonily refusing to respond.

The turbo-lift descended further and further in the bowels of Taris, and I realized I had no idea where this one would end. I hoped Carth did.

I kept hold of my anger, though. It made me feel alive and whole, like my senses were peaked by a glitterstim high. And honestly, Onasi was being unreasonable.

As the lift’s descent began to decelerate, I turned to glare at him.

"Are you implying I had something to do with the crash?"

“No!” he answered quickly, and the lift stopped with a shudder.

The doors opened, and I walked out. We'd exited into a warren of artificially-lit corridors, decorated with tattered holo-posters advertising various goods. Graffiti was scrawled haphazardly along the walls; gang slogans or general profanities in varying shades of colour. The place was filthy – rubble and waste littered the ground, and the posters were grimy and damaged in places.

And behind me, Carth mumbled, “Well, maybe.”

"Oh thanks!" I yelled, turning back to glare at him. My muscles clenched, and I could feel the all too familiar fury taking hold again. Must calm down. I gritted my teeth, and forced in a deep breath. "It doesn't make any difference. Go ahead and be paranoid."

"I'm not trying to be paranoid!" he snapped, and I could see the anger crease his face also. He's getting just as pissy as me. Faint shouts drifted from around the corner, but the noise barely registered.

Carth was glowering, dark eyes flashing with irritation. With a concerted effort to restrain himself, he opened his mouth once more. "Look," he finished softly, "I'm probably wrong, and this is probably nothing, I know. But I learned a long time ago not to take anything at face value. And I hate surprises."

The shouts became louder, and my annoyance with Onasi vanished as I looked ahead. Sounds like blaster fire. If we’re running into gang fights already, then Kebla wasn’t exaggerating. Carth whipped around in the direction of the noise, then turned back to glance at me. We nodded briskly at each other, argument forgotten, and both drew weapons before slowly edging down the corridor. As we rounded the corner, I spotted three aliens standing over a pile of corpses.

One of them looked up. "(More strangers!)" he hissed in a foreign dialect. All three were garbed in similarly coloured armour - red slashed with black - and as one they began to raise their weapons.

But I was taken aback. I understood that. I have no idea what language he just spoke, but I understood that.

Carth opened fire, and I raced towards them, vibrosword raised. The same battle rage once more consumed me, expanding through my body in a blazing heat as I lost control of my senses and any rational thought. The gang members surrounded me, each with stun sticks and blades, and I could dimly hear Carth shouting at me to get out of the fray. I dodged the first swipe, and swung my blade towards a neck, but the guy stepped backwards. The alien on my left snarled, jabbing a blade towards me. I jumped forward just in time, knocking the first gang member down with my sword.

I felt a piercing pain glance my shoulder, and numbly realized the third creep had pulled a blaster on me.

"Jen, get out of there!" Carth yelled.

I'm not going down to this scum! Thoughts raged through my head. These imbeciles should be afraid of me! An unbidden sense of power surged through me, uncontrolled. Two of the gang members instantly gave out synchronized yelps, dropped their weapons, and ran. A sense of shock assailed my fury, but battle sense prevailed and I turned to face the third guy. He looks as confused as me. Nonplussed, he stood stock still as Onasi shot him in the side. He crumpled.

"How odd," Carth said as he walked closer. "Why did they just run off like that?"

"Beats me," I said distantly, wondering myself. I’m using the Force without realizing it. Without any understanding of what I’m doing. There was a crawling sensation under my skin. I guess I can't let this power worry me too much, it seems to save my neck, the rational side of me pointed out. And it's so much fun, a darker side added. Not if I can't control it!

Carth shook his head in guarded disbelief. "Your luck is amazing, Jen. I was certain that was your end. Look, your battle sense is non-existent, and it's driving me crazy with worry every time we get into trouble. Could you please not run into the middle of fights like that?"

"I'll try," I muttered, kneeling down next to the gang member and searching him efficiently. The corpse held nothing of use – I didn’t need a stun stick and the blaster was one of those five hundred cred Czerka models that were guaranteed to overheat in the middle of a firefight. I stood up in disgust.

"Frankly, I don't understand why you're still standing." Carth was still frowning at me.

Because I'm good, you idiot. But was I, really? I'd raced into the fray, there, when we could have fired from a distance. I'd allowed myself to be surrounded, rather than taking out the first one I approached. It was as if some dark, sick side of me relished the challenge - and believed in my own immortality.

I shuddered, and Carth's frown deepened. Once more, his concern seemed to war with his mistrust, and he sighed, before dusting himself off. "Well, we're not hurt, so let's get our bearings and find out what to do next."

I nodded, and we proceeded further down the large walkway. We passed boarded-in openings that once, eons ago, were windows. Halogen lighting framed the ceiling, but in many places the lights were off – some smashed, some blacked out due to a likely electrical fault. Somehow, I didn’t think building maintenance was a lucrative career choice in the Lower City.

As we walked in silence, both listening intently for any sounds of further battle, I became aware of a foreign consciousness returning to my thoughts. Bastila, I realized with mingled irritation and unease. Great. She’s waking. There was a sense of drowsy frustration.

I will not be silenced again!

I stumbled in surprise. That wasn't my thought, was it? A sense of shock echoed mine, and Bastila's presence focused on me, like it had done back on the Endar Spire. I felt the familiar taste of fear and confusion, and tried to back off mentally. Obviously something else caught the Jedi's attention, as the focus seemed to dissipate somewhat. But she's awake now. A chill prickled down my spine. I can't afford to lose my temper again.

Carth was looking at me expectantly, and I realized he'd said something.

"Sorry – what?"

"I said, do you want to try this cantina for some info, first?"

I glanced up ahead, and spotted a lurid neon sign brightly proclaiming ‘Javyar’s Cantina’ to all and sundry. It looked somehow out of place in this dark corridor. "Sure."

"Good, you can try your hand at pazaak again." He grinned at me.

I felt a little uneasy at the thought. I’ve got to practice this, though. Each time I’m reacting on instinct – whether it’s in combat or conversation. I need to learn how to control this. It was pragmatic and true, and I gave Carth a nod of assent.

The bouncer outside the cantina gave us a quick once-over before allowing us entry.

It was a far cry from the Upper City cantina. The entrance room split into a dance area at the back and a pazaak den to the left. Thick cigarra smoke mingled with giggledust steam, and I guessed the air recirculators here weren’t the most efficient. Soulful music from a trio of Bith brass players undercut the murmured conversation of busy patrons, most of whom wore some variant of armour.

The Upper City cantina had been scruffier and more low-brow than the rest of the Upper City, but Javyar’s cantina was a step down further. Nothing too overtly illicit – most of the people here seemed at ease and jovial with one another. I found myself liking the place.

Carth nudged me expectantly, indicating the pazaak den.

"A drink, first." I replied.

He frowned at me. "No drinkin-"

"Just one, I promise," I laughed at him, and turned back to the bar that graced the centre of the cantina. Behind the bar I spotted three gang members walking towards a mercenary, in that forced casual stroll that just screamed violence to any experienced eye. They wore scuffed red armour slashed with black, the same colours as the aliens we encountered earlier. My, the action is certainly thick and fast down here, isn't it? The bartender, a thickset older Duros, looked on in alarm, his dark red eyes widening.

"Go away," the mercenary said loudly. His armour, a customized blue-and-white exoskeleton, looked formidable, and I could spot three different blasters on his person. The man unusually short, but his ready stance coupled with his equipment immediately showcased him as an experienced fighter. Inwardly, I pegged him as the superior to the three thugs who were spoiling for a fight.

"Hey, you not talk like that!" one of the gang members – a Rodian - said jovially, in broken Basic. "We just want say hi to big, bad bounty hunter Calo Nord!"

"Nah, this can't be Calo Nord," a Human piped up from behind the Rodian. "He's supposed to be tough. This guy's nothing but a runt!"

I kept my eye on the ensuing confrontation. They're just asking for trouble. I could sense Carth tensing as he recognized danger. This is not the sort of guy I would taunt lightly. Even if he is short.

"One," Calo Nord said ominously. He had a hand tucked into a bulky utility belt, I noted with suspicion.

"One? What that mean? You be funny, tough guy?"

Oh, so they're stupid as well.

"Two."

"Me no understand.” The Rodian shrugged. “One? Two? Why he count? He trying to count how many of us against him?"

"It's three against one, Calo," the Human sneered. "What do you think about those odds?"

"Three," Calo finished, and his hand whipped out from his utility belt. I instinctively pulled myself back into the pazaak den as a bright flash sheered through the place, followed by the sound of three blaster bolts.

By the time I poked my head back into the cantina, I saw Calo Nord re-hook his blaster to his hip, kick the casing of the flash grenade to the side of the room, and nonchalantly step over the corpses on his way out. I couldn’t help an involuntarily snigger as I eyed over the remains of the three brainless thugs.

Carth shot me a disgusted look. He’d ducked back into the pazaak den also, unlike some of the cantina patrons deeper in the main room who were rubbing their eyes and cursing in a variety of languages. The barman was scowling at the mess on the floor. "Did you just find that funny?" Carth demanded.

"No." Yes.

"Really? I heard you laugh," he said in a sarcastic tone.

"I didn't laugh!" I sniggered.

"It sounded like a laugh to me."

"I had something in my throat, okay?" I snapped.

"Right," he said coldly.

Suddenly I didn't feel like a drink anymore. "Let me just go and play some pazaak. Give me your credits."

"You sound like one of Davik's thugs when you say that," he groused, but handed over his money anyway. In total, we had just over two hundred credits left. I did well enough against the juniors in the Upper City, before I faced Niklos. Now, if I could just figure out how to replicate that mind trick, I'd be one step closer to understanding my own abilities - and I'd be able to make us a small fortune.

xXx

I couldn't believe it. I simply couldn't understand. Why didn't that work? Why couldn't I feel anything? My mind was screaming with frustration.

"You- you lost all our credits?" Carth looked flabbergasted. "How? You won everything in Upper Taris!"

"I guess luck just wasn't with me!" I snapped back.

"Then why didn't you cut your losses? You threw away over two hundred credits!"

"I tried, alright?" I scowled. Gelrood just laughed at me when I suggested he stand with 13. Why? Why? The second player I tried just told me to stop acting like a juiced-up spacer! That energy, that charge all around me – it simply wasn’t there anymore. Have I been using the Force, or not? If so, why has it suddenly failed me?

"So we're totally broke, great going Jen." Carth obviously felt he needed to make me feel even worse.

"Not totally," I shot back at him sweetly. "I have just enough left for a whiskey, so excuse me."

I stormed off in the direction of the bartender.

xXx

Chapter Text

Restless

- Mission Vao -

I was getting restless again; I could feel it in my bones. The desire to go out and explore, to meet new people, to have an adventure - it was beginning to consume me. It didn't help that Gadon refused to let me join in on any of the Hidden Bek assignments. I could help them, I really could! Why do they always treat me like a kid?

Big Z would say it's ‘cause I was a kid, but he was the only one who could get away with that. Although I did throw my dinner at him last time.

"(Mission, you're fidgeting like a lice-ridden cub)," he suddenly complained.

I looked up from the spare utility belt I'd been tweaking. It didn’t carry as many tech spikes as my usual one, but was totally more comfortable to wear.

"Let's go explore the Undercity again!" The thought had only just crossed my mind as it erupted out of my mouth.

"(No!)" he exploded in a fierce growl. "(It's too dangerous. Listen to Gadon!)"

I had to laugh. How many times have we been down there with no trouble?  “Come on, it's not like we can't avoid the rakghouls! 'Sides, I wanna check out those escape pods!” I grinned hopefully at him. “There could be some really cool stuff down there!”

Just thinking about it stirred excitement in my belly. We might find some Republic gear! Think of the creds that would bring us! The Undercity wasn’t a place I went to often – it was dark, depressing, and the rakghouls were actually pretty scary. But they stayed outdoors and were slow and lumbering. As long as we kept our wits about us, they were pretty easy to avoid. Big Z and I had explored the sewer tunnels down there a couple of times, and my bio-scanner had never picked one up in there.

Though I didn’t like the strange, faraway roars I heard sometimes. They were downright creepy. Big Z said it was the sound of the planet’s soul slowly dying, but he could be poetically dramatic like that.

"(There are Sith patrols down there, Mission!)" he was scolding sternly. I’d always found it surprising how strongly he could convey disapproval when howling in his native tongue.

"Bah, they won't bother us," I waved a hand dismissively. Our ‘scanners would pick up the rakghouls and the Sith before they came too close. And worst case scenario: Zaalbar would just grab me and run. It was amazing how fast a seven foot Wookiee could sprint.

"(No, I'm not going)," he said firmly, shaking his shaggy head.

I gave him an affectionate look. "Yes, you are!"

"(Mission)," he whined, "(you are too impulsive for your own good. Let us just stay here)."

"No way!" I retorted, shaking my head in denial. "Live a little, Big Z! Come on, it’s boring round here!"

Besides, this would be a way for the Beks to take me seriously. If we found something important, maybe something that the Sith up top wanted, then it could really give the Beks some leverage. And maybe Gadon would finally let me compete in the swoop races.

"(What are you up to now, Mission?)" A female voice said in Ryl. I glanced up to see Zaerdra, Gadon's second-in-command, enter the Bek storeroom we were seated in. Zaerdra insisted in speaking purely Ryl to me - as if I was gonna lose my heritage or something if I didn’t hear it daily. I enjoyed ribbing her by always answering back in Basic.

Okay, okay, I knew my Ryl wasn’t fluent, and I only understood the rudimentary basics of the lekku sign-language, but I’d been born on Taris or close to. I was a Tarisian, first and foremost. It wasn't like I was going to immigrate to Ryloth anytime soon… it wasn't like I’d ever have the chance.

"Nothing, just talking ‘bout our next adventure,” I answered chirpily, hoping she'd drop it.

Zaerdra pinned me with a glare. "(What adventure? Really, Mission, there’s a gang war going on at the moment. You need to stay put, grow up and have a little more care).”

"Grow up?" the cry was ripped from my lungs as I jumped to my feet. She’s always mothering me – as if I need it! While gang fighting had erupted into the tunnels and alleyways of the Lower City, it didn’t mean I couldn’t evade all the action if need be. I knew all the secret shortcuts, and had all the gear to warn me of any incoming danger. And worst case scenario: no one was tougher than Zaalbar.  "I take care of myself perfectly fine, and always have! Why do you always treat me like a little girl?"

"(Because you-)" Zaerdra pursed her lips, sighed, and then began again. "(You are still young and spontaneous, and I worry you put yourself in danger. Especially with all the Vulkars out there right now)."

"(Mission can take care of herself)," Big Z growled in Shyriiwook. Good old Zaalbar. He may lecture me to death when we’re alone, but he'll always stick up for me. Sometimes I reckon I can't count on anyone else.

"Well don't worry," I said firmly, crossing my arms. "I know the Undercity better than any Bek alive!"

"(The Undercity? Oh Mission, you're not going there again?)" Zaerdra frowned, her brightly waxed lekku twitching in disapproval. She sniffed. "(Gadon will talk some sense into you)."

"Look, Zaerdra, if Gadon doesn't want me along on Bek jobs, then that’s fine. I’ll just keep myself busy." I tried to say that in a snooty voice, but considering Zaerdra's scowl I didn’t think it worked. "Let's go, Big Z."

The Wookiee faithfully followed me out of the Hidden Bek base. I grinned and waved merrily to Dane and Lizza who were standing guard at the base entrance, but I was still annoyed inside. I could help the Beks – I’m the best splicer they’ve got - why does Gadon still coddle me? Big Z tried to tell me it was ‘cause they cared, and ‘cause Zaerdra thought she was looking out for me, but I didn't buy that. No one's looked out for me since Griff left, and I've been fine!

But I wasn't gonna think on my brother. Better to contemplate finding all sorts of exotic Republic gear we could flog off to the rest of the Beks.

"(Can we get something to eat first, Mission?)" Zaalbar complained as we wandered down a shadowy back alley. There was a convenient shortcut between the Bek base and the cantina, and sometimes I wondered at how those brainless Vulkar oafs had never found Gadon’s hideout. Or maybe they know it, and just don’t dare a full out attack. The Beks had more men, it was true, although those nasty Vulkars had been recruiting an awful lot lately.

"You and your stomach!" I poked Zaalbar in his furry side, and made a mental note to nag Zaalbar into having a bath. "It's a good thing I can bring in the creds, Big Z, with the way you eat!"

He growled at my teasing, and I laughed again. "Alright, let’s go get some cantina grub. I might play a bit of pazaak, too."

I recalled the Rodians who'd been there last night, eager to play me – but I'd had to dash. Newcomers that want to challenge the pazaak queen of the Lower City – I'm going to have some fun kicking their scrawny green butts! It'd taken me years to build up this deck, and I was rather proud of it. Some of the cards I’d collected were worth drukloads on the open market.

I skipped along the corridor in anticipation with Zaalbar trudging behind me. A flickering neon light announced the cantina, and I stopped to chat briefly to the bouncer, who all but ignored Zaalbar. Big Z tended to be quiet in other company, and it always amazed me how easily people could forget he was even there. Except when he gets angry. Hard to ignore a seven-foot growling shag carpet!

I waltzed into the cantina and waved cheerily at Sancha, the barman. Glancing around the place, my eyes lit up on a napping patron. A Twi’lek dressed in Vulkar colours, slumped unconscious on the beer-stained bar. Someone's had a few too many drinks... ooh, this could be fun. I heard a slumbering snore escape him, and grinned.

The Black Vulkar was alone, head resting on limp arms. Sancha gave me a warning look as I approached, but turned to hide a grin. He knew me well, and wasn’t the biggest fan of the Vulkars, anyway. They’d trashed his place three times in the last month – despite the unwritten code of the Lower City. Leave the gang war on the streets.

Zaalbar nudged me. "(Mission, what are you doing?)"

"Big Z, shush!" I whispered. "Go eat something. Your breath stinks."

"(You are getting into trouble again. I cannot let you walk into danger)."

I rolled my eyes at him, pushed him softly away, and hopped onto the stool next to the Black Vulkar. The thug didn’t move; still head-planted on the bar. What sort of trouble could an unconscious punk bring anyway? I leaned nonchalantly against the Twi’lek – he gave a soft snort, but other than that stayed motionless. My wandering hand strayed into his pocket. My, I wonder what this plasteel chit could be. If my luck held, it’d be loaded with creds I could download before the drunk Vulkar woke and cancelled it.

I congratulated myself and jumped off the stool, wandering around the other side of the bar. Zaalbar was shooting me worried looks. "Sancha, dinner for my friend please," I asked cheerily.

"(Mission...)" Zaalbar moaned. I grinned at him, and motioned to a free table in the corner.

"Easy money.” I beamed, grabbing out my datapad to insert the chit ready for download. But there was something stuck to the side of the chit; I peeled it off, considering. It was a crumpled piece of paper.

"Bit odd to have something on paper. It looks like codes of some sort,” I commented, tracing a finger down it. “What do you make of it, Big Z?"

"(I don't!)" he wailed when I showed him the writing.

I shot him an exasperated look, and glanced at the paper again. There was a Vulkar insignia hastily scribbled on the top, with the phrase ‘BlackAccess01’ written underneath it in scrawling Basic. Some sort of password? I mused, wondering. Further down the page were the hexadecimal codes I’d first noticed. Weird. Why wouldn’t he have this recorded electronically?

An idea hit me – only last week I'd stumbled across a system I couldn’t crack. And Gadon’d said he thought the Vulkars had hidden their base in the same place. “Hey! Big Z, d’ya reckon this could have something to do with that security system in the sewers?”

Zaalbar groaned audibly as I felt excitement swell once more through my stomach. My gaze roved hungrily over the page again, but I had the sense to lower my voice. “I reckon it is. I bet ‘blackaccess01’ is the passphrase to login, which means the codes could be...” I trailed off, my eyes widening. “The deactivation sequence to that forcefield we saw! Stuff the escape pods, let’s go check it out! If this-” I shook the bit of paper to stress my point, “-is the key to breaking into the Vulkars’ base, then we should make sure it works!”

And if it did, then I could just imagine what Gadon would think. Maybe, after all these years, he might finally relent and admit me as a full Bek member.

I’d been lucky, in a way, that the Beks had taken me in so young. I knew how hard it was to live out on the streets of Lower Taris. But the downside was that Gadon still saw me as no more than the kid he’d rescued years ago – despite all the slicing I did on his behalf.

"(No! Too dangerous! No! I will not allow you to run into a heavily guarded base if I have to tie you up myself!)" Zaalbar yelled angrily.

Well, it's a good thing no one round here can understand Shyriiwook. "Geez, Big Z, calm down would ya? You sound like a wampa in heat! ‘Sides," I whispered, "I'm not crazy enough to break into their base. I just want to see if I'm right before I give it to Gadon."

"(No! We will not go!)"

"Calm your friend down, would you? He's scaring the customers," Sancha warned as he strolled over, Zaalbar’s dinner resting on a tray clasped in his hand.

 I grinned apologetically at him. "He's just hungry, is all. Saying how he can’t wait for your food!"

Sancha gave me a disbelieving look as he handed Zaalbar his food – typical Lower City cuisine of rehydrated gima beans and cast-off meat from the Upper City – but strolled away without further comment.

"(Mission, I will go with you to the escape pods, if you promise we will not go near that forcefield)," Zaalbar offered hopefully.

Now that was a surprise. Last time, we’d come a teensy bit close to a rogue rakghoul, and Zaalbar had sworn he wouldn’t let me near the Outside again. I beamed at him. Once I've got him down there, it'll be easy enough to drag him into the sewers. ‘Sides, it’s safer in the sewers than the Outside.

"It's a deal!" I said cheerfully, quickly downloading the Vulkar’s creds before standing. There was only slightly more than one hundred unencrypted, and I was of a mind to make a bit more than that this evening. "I’m gonna hit the card tables, Big Z." I patted his shoulder reassuringly and waltzed off to the card room, cred tokens from last week’s winnings still secure in my belt. I discarded the Vulkar’s empty chit in a disposal bin along the way.

The pazaak den was adjoined to the main bar under a large archway, and occupied with the usual assortment of drunks, lowlifes, and anyone looking to make a quick buck. Which pretty much included every inhabitant in the Lower City. I liked it here though; most people were too busy looking out for themselves to hassle me for being so young.

Lina, a Zabrak female who frequented the pazaak den more often than me, spotted my entrance and wandered over to embrace me affectionately. She was a spice junkie, and more often than not I’d see that awful glazed look on her face as she rode out another glitterstim high. Today she appeared crisp and coherent, and smelled only of watered-down beer.

"Mission, come to wipe the floor with those Rodian jerks?" she grinned, still hugging me warmly.

I nodded enthusiastically as I stepped back, glancing around the room. Gelrood was holed up in his standard corner, a smug look creasing his face, and the Rodians were playing at the end table.

"You just missed out on an easy catch," Lina told me.

My gaze shot back to her. "Lemme guess, Gelrood thrashed someone? He's looking happier than normal... did he cheat, d'ya think?"

Lina let out a tinkle of laughter. "Not this time. Some crazy new woman lost a whole bunch to him. She kept telling him to stand, or keep going when he was on nineteen.”

"Threats?" I raised both eyebrows. It happened, but not often - and usually from the Vulkars or the Sandsnakes, a smaller gang who was just about as nasty. That was the reason most of us refused to play them.

"No, no," Lina giggled, her dull eyes twinkling with mirth. "I was listening to most of it. I don't think she understood how to play the game properly. It sounded like she was making suggestions. Gelrood’s certainly richer, though!"

I grinned, wishing I’d been there. All sorts of sents ended up in Javyar’s cantina, and I personally bet it was some Upper City brat who’d been forced out by the Sith. "Shame I missed out! Anyways, I'm off to try the new guys."

Lina nodded in farewell, and I made my way over to the end table. One of the Rodians looked up as I approached, his large black eyes narrowing in recognition.

"(Hey look, a little girl wants to try a grown up game)," he sneered in Rodese. The other two spotted me next, stopping their game to eye me over.

"Hey, I'm not a little girl, ronto breath!" I glared at them. "Are you afraid to play me? You said last night you wanted to play the champion."

"(This place is easy credits if the champion’s just a little girl)," a second one chimed in, nudging the first. I was starting to get annoyed - but I knew just how much psychology factored in with pazaak. Besides, if my deck didn't treat me well tonight, I'd just cheat to win.

"Maybe you should stop talking, and start playing. Or are you scared?" I challenged, a hand on my hip.

"(Let's see how many credits you have to lose)."

xXx

A short time later, and I walked out of the card room smugly, my purse full of tokens just waiting to be cashed in. I'd lost a few games to those smart mouths, but won more. My lucky deck never fails me. Well, it usually didn’t, and certainly hadn’t tonight.

"(Little girl cheats! Little girl’s asking for trouble!)" the slurring voice of the Rodian I’d just thrashed drifted after me into the main bar.

I whirled around, glaring through the archway back into the pazaak den. "I do not cheat, gizka brain! Face it, I won fair and square, you sore loser! Now, beat it."

I stalked over to the bar, my eyes narrowed in annoyance. Would people stop with the age thing already? I wondered briefly where Big Z was, he must have had four dinners by now.

"(Hey, little girl! You better give our money back. We don’t like cheats)," another one of the mouthy runts taunted, dogging my heels. I glanced back to see two of the Rodians had followed me out, their beady eyes intent on me.

"I told you to leave me alone – so give me some space, bug-eye!" I retorted. These guys just can't handle losing. "Your breath smells like bantha poo-doo!" It did, actually, and I’d struggled to concentrate on the game at times. They’d give Big Z a run for his money. Far out. Haven’t these guys ever heard of personal hygiene?

"(This ain’t no place for a little girl like you. If you’re smart, you’ll run away home).” The closest Rodian pointed a finger at me.

Do they think they can scare me? Hah! I’ve seen scarier Twi’lek dancers. "Who you calling a little girl, chuba-face?" I countered, folding my arms and staring daggers at them.

"(Looks like someone needs a lesson in manners!)" the second Rodian threatened, stepping up level with his friend.

I saw a large shadow loom behind the Rodians, and stifled a satisfied smirk. "And I suppose you creeps are going to give me one? Gimme a break!" I goaded.

Both of them took a challenging step closer. As if I'm going to back down! “What?" I struck a pose. "You want to beat up on little ole me?"

"(You asked for it!)" The first exclaimed angrily, flexing his arm. At once they were both lifted three feet into the air, and I watched happily as their expression turned from rage, to shock, and then finally fear.

"(You want a fight? Then have one with me!)" Zaalbar roared, and shook them both by the scruff of their necks.

What a sight! Two annoying insects totally outclassed! The Rodians yelped in surprise, and Zaalbar growled a second time before throwing them savagely. One of them let out a high pitched squeal as he thudded against the cantina wall.

"Had enough yet?" I taunted.

"(Little girl’s lucky she has a big friend)," the larger of the two muttered as he got to his feet. Zaalbar snarled, and the two Rodians all but sprinted out of the cantina. I poked my tongue out as they passed. Worst case scenario: I always had Big Z to back me up.

When I glanced back to the bar, I saw Sancha was scowling at us. I winked gleefully, and my eyes caught on a Human female laughing at the exchange. I wondered if she spoke Rodese – an' it wasn't like she needed to know Shyriiwook to understand a snarling Wookiee meant. I grinned impishly at her and sidled closer, curious.

Another stranger. First the Rodians, now this Human and her sidekick. For another Human was standing a bit behind her, scowling at her back. Her grumpy sidekick, by the looks. Huh, I wonder what they're doing in here.

"Say, I don't recognize you and I know pretty much everyone in this part of the Lower City. You must be new down here," I said brightly, smiling at them. "I guess that makes me and Big Z your official welcoming committee!"

The woman grinned in response, and inclined her head. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief, and I took an immediate liking to her. In the corner of my eye, I spotted Zaalbar losing interest as he turned back to his food.

"Hi, my name's Jen," the Human told me. She had a mop of curly dark hair and wore tattered armour. A vibrosword was strapped to her side, and the other guy was resting his hand on his hip, where I’d bet fifty creds a blaster was concealed. I found it hard to tell age with Humans, but they were much older than me, and had a sort of battle-ready look about them.

I pointed to the man; he had a highly irritated look on his face. "Is that guy with you, or does he just like glaring at the world?"

The woman laughed. "That's Carth. I seem to have a habit of annoying him."

The man named Carth hissed something I didn't hear, his face a picture of heightened frustration.

"What?" She shot him a puzzled look. "You’re paranoid, you know that?"

"Anyway," I chimed in, not wanting to witness an argument between the two. "My name's Mission Vao and that big Wookiee over there is my best friend, Zaalbar. I'd offer to give you a tour, but the streets down here aren't safe - what with the gangs and the Sith these days.”

"You showed a lot of guts dealing with those bullies, kid," the older man commented. He was probably trying to be polite, but I bristled at the word. Jen looked at me – I wondered if she sensed my irritation, for she quickly spoke again.

"How do a Wookiee and a Twi’lek end up as best friends?" she asked curiously.

I relaxed, warming up to the subject. "We just kind of fell in together. It ain't easy on your own here in the Lower City - everyone's always looking to get the best of you."

"We’ve noticed that,” Carth commented in a droll voice. “Still, you seem like an odd pair."

"When I met up with Zaalbar it seemed like a good match," I volunteered. "I knew we could look out for each other. With my street smarts and his muscle, we make a great team." I couldn't ask for a better friend.

The Humans nodded at me, and I wondered again what they were doing at Javyar’s Cantina. Not many of their type came here. I suddenly recalled Lina’s earlier comments, and wondered.

"Say, you don't want to play a game of pazaak, do ya?" I asked brightly.

"No she does not," Carth said quickly through clenched teeth. Jen's face flushed red, and I had to suppress a giggle. So it was her!

"I’d like to ask you some questions," Jen said in a rush.

I suppose I could let her change the subject. "Well, you came to the right person!" I told her. "If you want info on Lower Taris, I'm the one to talk to! Davik, the Lower City gangs... I've even got the scoop on that bounty hunter Calo Nord!"

She gave me a considering look. "Calo Nord? He's the fellow I saw earlier. What do you know about him?"

"Calo Nord's one of the most famous bounty hunters in the galaxy!" I enthused. "He's killed more people than the Iridian Plague! I've seen him kill people just for looking sideways at him!" He was pretty scary; I sure as heck didn't try talking to him. He didn’t usually turn up here unless he was hunting down a bounty. Bad for business, Sancha would grumble. "Calo hangs around Zax's bounty office, but I don't think he's looking for work there. I reckon Calo's been hired by Davik to do a special job for the Exchange. I'd wager a thousand creds that as soon as the quarantine ends, he'll be getting off this rock."

"A thousand big ones – that's some amount," Jen murmured. Carth scowled at the mention of credits, and I grinned. I reckon they're flat broke now. You gotta be some sort of head-case to lose that much to Gelrood.

"Well," Jen continued. "I'm mostly interested in finding a way down to the Undercity."

Ooh, I bet she's going down there because of the escape pods! I'm almost tempted to join up with them... but I work better alone. Alone with Zaalbar, anyway. "You'll have a tough time getting past the Sith guard," I warned. “They don’t have the manpower to control the streets down here, but they’ve set up an outpost next to the Undercity entrance." I knew a few other ways around the guards, but they were my secrets alone. "Why d’ya want to go to the Undercity, anyway? The rakghouls attack anything on sight!"

"Just want to check out a few things," she said lightly.

I let out a grin. Yep, definitely going after the escape pods. "Well, good luck getting there. If you need help, have a chat to Gadon Thek – he's the leader of the Hidden Beks."

"I don't know if we want to get involved with the gang wars," Carth murmured.

"Gadon's a good guy!" I jumped in quickly. "And a great leader! This gang war is totally the Vulkars fault! They're the ones who started killing everything on the streets – just ‘cause of the Sith trying to wrest control. Between those two, everyone’s gone insane out there.”

"Sounds a good reason to stay out of it then," Jen commented drily.

"Well, maybe," I said, shrugging. "But I don't reckon you'll be able to get to the Undercity without Gadon's help."

Gadon always liked to check out strangers himself, and he usually helped the good ones... if they helped him, of course. He'd want to meet these two. Both of them looked pretty tough and, despite their wish to stay away from the gangs, I knew that was easier said then done. The Vulkars would even harass me on sight these days.

Except in the cantina, of course - that's off-limits. Usually. The Vulkar I'd looted earlier was still passed out on the bar. Well, he was asking for it. Sheesh… who passes out drunk with their pockets loaded?

"This dive is boring," I complained. "I'm gonna go find some action. Nice to meet you, Jen."

"And you," she smiled at me. I grinned back. I've got some creds, Big Z's been fed - it's time to hit the streets.

"Come on, Big Z!” I called out to the corner where Zaalbar was probably onto his fifth meal already. “Let's get going."

He complained, but followed me loyally to the door.

Time for an adventure!

xXx

Chapter Text

Control

- Jen Sahara -

The Twi'lek girl was right; the Sith were vigilantly guarding the Undercity entrance. In a snide tone, Carth suggested I should talk them into letting us past, but I put that down to bad temper and ignored him. I'm not trying that again, not after my spectacular failure in the pazaak den. Maybe we should try talking to Gadon first - Mission was fairly insistent.

She seemed like a sweet kid, although I wouldn’t call her that out loud. Unlike Flyboy - great tact there. Bright, impulsive, good-natured... she reminds me of someone. I don't know who... maybe she reminds me of what I'd like to be. I blinked, surprised at my own train of thought. No, there was something a bit naïve and enthusiastic about her. She'd probably stick her neck out to save gizka, I thought sourly, just like Jen.

"So, not interested in chatting up the Sith?" Carth muttered. He was still pissed at our lack of credits, and his mood was becoming more than a little tiresome. But – loathe as I was to admit it – Carth had a valid reason to be angry. Our dire money situation was an issue. I’d probably have to sell the stims I’d been hiding so we could actually eat for the next few days.

"I think we should speak to Gadon," I said in a measured tone. "I haven't got any other ideas, and Mission strikes me as a genuine sort. If she suggested going to the Beks, then it's likely a good start."

Carth muttered something under his breath, but followed my lead - back to the cantina. Fortunately, getting directions to the gang base from there wasn’t difficult – obviously the Beks were used to visitors. A quick walk from the cantina on one of the main pipelines through the Lower City brought us to the guarded entrance of the Hidden Bek base. I briefly wondered what genius had given the gang their name.

The guard was poorly armed, but quick to protest as I tried the door – an old-fashioned, swinging door made of a thick plasteel compound, and likely bolted from the inside seeing as I couldn't budge it at all.

"Hey, you can't just walk in here!" the guard yelled indignantly, shoving me away from the resistant door. A flash of fury fired in my gut; part of me knew that anger so quick to flare was both dangerous and unhealthy. I clenched my teeth and pushed it away. Calm down, she's just doing her job. I swear I could feel Carth smirk behind me.

"I want to talk to Gadon Thek," I said, struggling to keep my tone pleasant and non-threatening.

"And how do I know you're not a Vulkar spy sent to kill him?" the guard sneered, her face twisting in dislike as she eyed me over.

"Uh, well, you don't?" I offered without thinking. Her expression darkened.

"Look," I appeased quickly, inwardly kicking myself. "I'm not a Vulkar. I just want to get into the Undercity. Mission suggested I talk to Gadon."

She was still glaring at me in distrust. "Mission Vao? Well, I suppose it's not like you can do anything to harm Gadon in the heart of his own base. Not with Zaerdra watching his back." She paused for a minute, her lips twisting as she thought it over. "Go in and speak to Gadon if you want. Just remember to be on your best behavior... the Hidden Beks are watching you."

She has no right to talk down to me like that! My thoughts tumbled over one another, rage and logic vying for dominance. No, I need their help. Anger will do no good here. I felt my fingernails dig into my palms as I struggled for calm, struggled to push aside the unreasonable anger.

The guard knocked loudly on the door, and a small panel slid open in the centre. I could just make out a shadowy face stare at us from behind a pane of grimy transparisteel.

“Strangers,” the guard called. “Claim they want to see Gadon about the Undercity.”

A grating noise indicated the bolting mechanism was being dismantled, and a minute later the door opened. Considering the lax security – we hadn’t even been searched! – I was becoming more and more surprised that the Sith hadn’t conquered these Lower City gangs. Carth shot me a disbelieving glance; he was thinking along the same lines then. I guess the Sith are just as incompetent on Taris as everywhere else in the known galaxy. These gangs are ripe for the taking. The Sith? Incompetent? Why would I think that? I tried to chase down the origin of the thought, but it slipped away into the shadows, another secret locked in the recesses of my unstable mind.

Don’t just stand there like you’ve swallowed a Bothan stunner, idiot. The guard was getting suspicious at my pause; her brows had lowered into a full-fledged glare as I stalled in the entrance, wearing a glazed look like a stim junkie. Carth nudged me towards the open door, shooting me a concerned look.

I shook my head to clear out the cobwebs, nodded curtly to the glowering guard, and strode into the Bek base.

The main hall of the base was rather large, and armoured gang members lurked against the walls, staring at me as I walked through. A few of them stroked their displayed weapons overtly as I caught their eye. Gang members and their egos. As if a bunch of poorly dressed thugs with vibroswords could intimidate me. But most of them were content to size us up from a distance – apart from a Twi’lek female stalking toward us, her eyes shooting daggers and her stride purposeful and that of a competent fighter.

"Hold it right there - who are you and what is your business with Gadon?" she demanded, hands on hips as she blocked my way. My hand twitched towards my vibrosword instinctively. The woman's eyes widened as she caught my move and she snarled, drawing out her weapon in a flash. Damn my gut reactions!

"Spies!" she yelled, and a chorus of gang members bellowed in response. The noise of multiple blades being drawn rang through the hall, and fleetingly I hoped none would pull out blasters. Stop this, before I get hurt! My hand held the hilt of my vibrosword tightly, but sense stopped me from lifting it. Before I get hurt? This ragtag mob is no match for me!

"We're not here to fight!" Carth called out desperately next to me.

"Everybody stop!" an authoritative voice shouted above the din. All around us Hidden Beks stood watching warily, blades – and blasters, I noted – aimed directly at us. All because of my gut reaction to that Twi’lek’s hostility. I hope Carth didn’t see that – or I’ll never hear the end of it. If we get out of here alive, that is. My eyes flicked around the large hall; perhaps forty gang members surrounding us, and at least ten had blasters.

…I really need to work on my instincts.

 The man who’d called a temporary halt to the proceedings was strolling towards us. He was Human, I noted in surprise – the only Human Bek in the room. I wondered if he was their illustrious leader; his authority coupled with his nonchalant stance seemed to suggest so.

"They're spies, Gadon, sent by the Vulkars!" the Twi’lek insisted, eyes glaring into mine. Say something, before this Gadon loses control of his troops!

"No, Mission suggested we come talk to Gadon," I said in a rush.

"Lies!" the woman hissed. She raised her vibrosword higher, pointing it threateningly at me. I swallowed down the urge to fight back against her challenge; to slash open her throat and end her defiance. I will not lose control. Not here, otherwise I may as well just sodding shoot myself!

"Calm down, Zaerdra," Gadon said in a soothing voice. "If Mission sent them here, I doubt very much they'd be looking to attack me. It would be a suicide attempt, at any rate."

"Gadon, you're too trusting! I saw that sneak-"

"Zaerdra," he cut in, his voice a warning.

She glared hatefully at me and stood down, but did not sheathe her weapon. I felt the eyes of everyone on us, ready for one false move. If I ever needed to control Evil Bitch, it is right now. Carth stood in a defensive pose next to me, his eyes flicking from person to person.

"Now, what did you two want?" Gadon asked in a friendly tone, as if I didn't have forty weapons primed at my head.

"We're looking for a way to get into the Undercity," I replied blandly. His eyes bored into mine in inquiry, the strange violet colour of ocular implants. They were an expensive way to restore eyesight, which made me wonder, idly, just how profitable the Hidden Beks’ operations were.

"And Mission sent you to see us?" he questioned. "Why do you want to go there?"

I hesitated. May as well tell the truth - I can't think of anything believable to invent. "I want to check out the escape pods."

Gadon took my measure, eyeing me over in consideration. "Well," he said in a lower tone, too soft for anyone bar us and Zaerdra to hear. "You're not Vulkars or Sith. If you were working for Davik, I'd expect you to find your own way to the Undercity. You're with the Republic, aren't you?"

No. Carth's face tightened in discomfort. "We're looking for someone," I hedged. Carth turned to glower at me, and I realized belatedly that perhaps I wasn't being as evasive as I'd hoped. Gadon had a little smile on his face.

"I don't mind telling you what I've learnt. The Vulkars stripped the pods clean some time ago, and I know for a fact they took a Republic Officer captive."

"Who?" Carth demanded, his voice loud in the now-quiet room. Gadon shot him a startled look.

"Relax, Flyboy." I scowled at him. I'd only just drawn myself back under control, I didn’t need him jumping the gun too.

"What's the name of this person you're looking for?" Gadon replied. Thinks he's got the upper hand, does he? My eyes scanned the room. Oh right, he does.

"A woman called Bastila," I muttered.

"Jen!" Carth hissed. His face turned red with anger. "What are you doing?"

"Calm down, Flyboy." I shot him a quelling look, but from his expression I knew there would be words later.

Gadon chuckled, his strange eyes glinting. "I had to see some trust before I went further."

"I don't trust anyone," Carth said, but he was glaring at me.

Gadon's eyebrows lowered.

And here I thought I was the one who made things worse. "Don't pay any attention to him; he's just my version of Zaerdra." I appeased. I heard a low noise from Carth. Be quiet, Flyboy! Zaerdra hissed, a new level of malice crossing her face. Somehow, I didn’t think Zaerdra would ever be a friend of mine.

Sod it all. I turned back to face the leader of the Hidden Beks. "So, Gadon, can you help us?"

"Perhaps we can help each other," Gadon offered. I inclined my head in curiosity, and he continued. "Ever ridden a swoop before?"

I blinked. Have I? "Uh, once or twice,” I bluffed. “Why?"

"Bastila is the officer Brejik – and his Vulkars – captured. He's offered her up as prize for the annual swoop race in a week's time," Gadon continued.

"Prize?" Carth said in a sort of squeak. Heh, no wonder she's always unconscious. Sedated, probably. I can't imagine an uptight Jedi standing for any of that. Though she had been awake the last few hours, and very, very angry. Her presence radiated heat in the back of my head.

"The only chance you have of getting Bastila back is at the annual swoop race. But you need a gang sponsor to enter." Gadon smiled at me. "I could be persuaded to sponsor your entry."

I raised an eyebrow. "All of this is sounding like a bit of a long shot. And exactly what sort of persuasion are you after, Gadon Thek?"

His smile broadened, like he'd caught a fish wriggling on a line. I wasn't particularly impressed with the thought of myself as a harmless aquatic, and felt a scowl forming.

"The Vulkars stole an accelerator prototype from our swoop bikes. Get it back for me, and I'll get you in the race," he said. My eyes bugged out with disbelief. That's a little something? Well, this will be interesting... and I wonder if it really was theirs to begin with.

Zaerdra snorted in derision. I saw Carth's mouth drop open in the periphery of my vision.

"Think they'll just let two strangers waltz on in and nick it?" I said, hearing the sarcasm in my voice. "This doesn't really sound like help."

"You're in no position to bargain here!" Zaerdra growled. One of her lekku twitched and my eyes followed automatically. What did she just call me? Confusion followed – maybe I really was losing it if I thought a Twi’lek’s headtails were insulting me.

"The Vulkars will win the swoop race hands down with that prototype," Gadon added.

"Why is that so important to you?" Carth asked. He was frowning in suspicion.

Gadon shrugged, but seemed content to answer our questions. "Prestige and power goes along with winning. If the Vulkars win again this year, more of the smaller gangs will flock to them."

Well, breaking into their base does sound like fun, a dark voice commented. No - without a sound plan and appropriate gear, it sounds flat-out insane. I gritted my teeth, pushing the thoughts away. "All right, Gadon, say we do this. Where is it?”

“The Vulkars have a nearby base whose entrance is very heavily guarded. The thieves were spotted absconding into that stronghold, but it’d be suicide to retrace their footsteps – especially since there’s reports of a back entrance in the sewers.” Gadon paused, staring at us. “I know of one person who might be able to find that entrance: Mission Vao.”

"Mission? Gadon, you can't be serious!" Zaerdra burst out in a horrified tone. "She's just a kid - how is she supposed to help them with this? I thought you agreed to keep her out of the Undercity!"

Gadon tensed, but kept his eyes on me and Carth. "Zaerdra, the Vulkars are making gains with all this fighting. You know this. We need to win the swoop race."

"But you've never involved Mission before, and-"

"Zaerdra, I don't have a choice!" Gadon said, his voice rising with heat. "And she’s not just a kid anymore!" He sighed, briefly closing his eyes before continuing his instructions. "You should find Mission in the Undercity, according to the latest rumours. Do not let her enter the Vulkar base, or you will become an enemy of the Beks. This I vow."

I felt my expression freeze. Is that a threat, little man? I took a deep breath. No! He's a good man, don't get angry! Please! I settled for nodding slowly at Gadon, not trusting myself to speak.

“Wait a minute,” Carth whispered to me. “If we’re breaking into a Vulkar base, and they have Bastila, then why go through the rigmarole of a swoop race at all?”

That was a valid point. Gadon’s hearing was better than I – or Carth – expected, for the leader chortled. “If you think that’s the only Vulkars’ base – or this, the only Beks’ one – then you are misinformed about the size of Taris. Your officer Bastila will be imprisoned deep into their territory across the other side of the Lower City. The only reason they haven’t moved the swoop part there is the Beks.”

“We live up to our motto,” Zaerdra added in a cold voice before elaborating: “The Hidden Beks are watching you.”

As far as gang catchphrases went, it was pretty meek. I held back a smirk.

Gadon was nodding in agreement. "Either bring the accelerator back, or destroy it. Our riders will beat the Vulkars without it."

"You're forgetting one thing," Carth interrupted. "Just how are we supposed to get past the Sith guard down to the Undercity?"

Gadon grinned wickedly and held out his hand towards me. Clasped in it, he offered a large electronic data-chit. "Sith authorisation papers, access to the upper, lower and bottom levels of Taris. That's my sign of trust."

Zaerdra still wore a stony expression. I nodded my thanks. If nothing else, he's an honourable man. "I'll be back once I've dealt with the accelerator."

I turned and headed out of the base, staring aggressively at every Bek that met my eye. I also made sure to slam that archaic door on my way out.

"Thanks, Jen," Carth muttered, opening the door to let himself out as well. Oops.

It was late, and we started the walk back to the hideout in silence. Inwardly, I blessed Mission Vao, as I clutched our ticket to Tarisian freedom. If nothing else, we now had a way to roam the levels freely. Gadon must pay a pretty cred to the Sith to have papers like these readily available. Or maybe it was a mutual arrangement - tentative cooperation between the gangs and the Sith. It was the lower levels where the vast majority of the population lived, after all. If the gangs didn't keep the masses in check, they actually could overrun the surface.

"How could you just come right out and say Bastila's name?" Carth condemned a minute later. "You think they won't sell us out to the Sith for a few credits?"

"I think we had no other option," I replied.

He sighed noisily. It sounded like he wanted to lambast me further, but knew, perhaps, that I had a point. "Maybe you're right, Jen. After all, it's our first genuine lead for Bastila."

The concession surprised me, and I turned to stare at him. Carth was still frowning in thought, but his anger seemed to have disappeared. He caught me looking, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “We’re a step closer due to your instincts. For a moment there, I thought that insane Twi’lek was about to start a firefight.”

My instincts… He hadn’t noticed my pre-emptive move towards the vibrosword, then. Good thing, too, otherwise he’d be damning my instincts rather than praising them. I felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Still, I wish we didn’t have to trust a gang leader,” he continued as we walked along.

"He won't sell us out to the Sith," I muttered. Well, not until we've dealt with the accelerator, my cynical mind added.

xXx

Darkness reigned, and I prowled through an empty apartment; for once feeling unwatched and alone. My connection with Bastila had vanished an hour ago, just as I’d given up on the idea of sleep. All evening I'd been swamped with her anger, her frustration - and at times a smug sense of satisfaction - which had all the more aroused my curiosity. What has she been up to? I swear I can tell when she's using the Force, and it seemed like she was making an escape attempt. The last emotions I'd sensed had been rage and denial, before her presence seemed to fade into drowsiness. Obviously she'd been sedated once more, I’d thought, but then her presence vanished completely from my mind an instant later. Like she'd been cut off from the Force. Like she’d never been linked to me. Or- killed?

But no, I didn't believe that. I would have felt her life-force draining away if she had died. Would I? How would I know what I’d feel? While I was still curious about the Jedi’s predicament, I’d decided to stop thinking and enjoy my new found freedom from her mental presence.

I'd left Carth snoring back at the hideout to go on a looting mission. I may have promised not to steal again, but he clings to his mistrust so fiercely that I'd hate to disappoint him. I'd sold those stims to buy dinner, which had only annoyed Carth further. Would he rather starve? He was irritated - presumably because I hadn't told him about my hidden stash.

I was deeper in the alien quarter, a remote apartment block that was as rundown as ours. I was interested in credits, to once more fill my depleted purse. That's not the only reason. I'm trying to chase down a memory.

Picking locks, and sneaking through people's homes... felt familiar. Was I a street kid? A street kid with morals, perhaps, it didn't feel right to clean out a place out entirely. Just take a little bit, only what I need.

A street kid who'd fought in the Mandalorian Wars, and whose close friend wielded a lightsaber.

I needed to know... to know more. I wasn't Jen Sahara, and I couldn't be Evil Bitch. Maybe here, by doing what felt natural, I would uncover some further details.

The grubby apartment I was looting was deserted for the night, and I flicked on a bedside lamp. The place was stark and empty, with living quarters deeper in the room and a refresher to the right. I saw a stack of holovids in the corner, and a handful of plasteel chits. Silly sents leaving these here for the taking. I palmed them, turned towards the exit, and froze as the door swished open-

"Who are you? Thief!" an armoured Trandoshan yelled in Basic. He charged into the room, drawing a pair of vibroblades, and I only just had my 'sword raised in time. Behind him, two other thugs in combat armour were framed in the doorway.

Kath crap! I've been looting some Exchange jerk's hideout!

Knocking the man's knives to the side, I feinted left and sidestepped right, lunging towards his torso as I did so. He twisted back, and my blow glanced against his armour. One of his allies was flanking him, now, wielding a vicious-looking vibro-staff.

An icy sliver of desperation shuddered down my spine. Use the Force, you moron! I ducked and rolled to the right of them both, jabbing the second one in the leg. I felt his armour give as my blade cut deep. I don't know how! The thug screamed, wilding swinging the staff at me. It caught on my wounded shoulder, and I let out an involuntarily shriek, scrambling backwards.

Use the pain! I gritted my teeth, dropped a hand from the vibrosword to pull out a blaster, and shot the man in the face. Twice.

Another scream from him, this time his last.

A glancing pain scored against my hand, and my gun dropped to the floor in reaction. The third bastard shot me in the hand!

"You die now!" he yelled, pointing the gun at my head. The Trandoshan was still on my left, advancing with a fierce gleam of ferocity.

I'm not going down to this scum! Thoughts raged into a blistering storm, and something strong surged through me, uncontrolled. I could suddenly sense the environment around me as power, particles to be manipulated – and, once more, muscle memory reigned supreme. I snarled, and raised my wounded hand towards the first thug, and clenched it despite the pain.

I could feel him as he was raised off the floor, propelled into the air... right in front of the next blaster shot fired at me from the third man. These bugs dare to hurt me?

The Trandoshan gurgled in midair, and I mentally shoved. He was thrown backwards into the other man, so they both crashed to the floor, one on top of the other. I will not be stopped! No one can challenge me! The sheer power of ultimate rage tasted so sweet.

End it! I stalked up to the two bodies in the doorway, and viciously stabbed my blade into both. A cut-off scream from the body underneath. A sweet melody.

I looked up, and another shadow flickered across my consciousness, further down the public corridor. No one can escape me. The residential spectator was backpedaling away, futilely trying to escape. I ripped my vibrosword out of the prone corpses, and threw it down the hallway with inhuman speed. It hit the bystander with a thud, sinking deep into an unarmoured chest. He slowly crumpled.

I watched him fall, heard his dying wheeze, and reality sliced a shiv-blade across my soul. Unarmoured. Spectator. Stranger.

An icy rush as the blazing power deserted me in a flash.

I ran to the body, fell to my knees, and clutched at his shoulders. He was a Rodian, clad in the tattered rags of an alien trying to survive the xenophobia of Upper Taris. Oh no, no, no... what have I done? His body convulsed once before stilling. Blank eyes stared up at me, accusing. Bright red blossomed against the blade that stuck out awkwardly from his chest. I've just murdered an innocent! Someone who was no threat! A noise in my throat. What have I become?

Numbness enveloped me. Distantly, I could feel a wet trail of shame edging down one cheek. There was anguish, lodged hard in my chest… but a thick cloud of detachment, too. What's another to my tally?

The empty eyes of the stranger still blamed me as burning bile rose in my throat. I fell backwards against the wall, dry-retching. What sort of monster am I?

I can't control this. I'm turning into something... repulsive, loathsome. I can't keep doing this. Funny how quiet Evil Bitch was all of a sudden. I didn't feel any glee at all, from any side of me.

I need help; I've got to turn somewhere. Before I slaughter anyone else.

I could use the Force again. Why this time, and not before?

I need help.

Dia told me to see a doctor.

Maybe the doctor who gave Onasi that kolto could help me.

I left my vibrosword where it was and scrabbled to my feet. Horror still pounded through my head. I was walking, stumbling, running... I didn't notice my surroundings, my thoughts were too rampant. Death. Do I bring death wherever I go?

xXx

Somehow, I stumbled into the medical facility a few hours before dawn, just as it was opening. A shifty looking individual stood by the entrance, waving me in with barely a second glance. Inside was a stark foyer lined with chairs, and a handful of closed doors that likely led to treatment rooms.

A dark-skinned Human dressed in tidy white clothes was bent over a console. He looked up as I approached.

"Welcome. My name is Zelka Forn, and this is the Central Free Clinic,” he greeted. “What can I do for you?

The man was middle aged and greying. His face was lined, his gaze steady, and he somehow exuded a calming presence with his expression alone.

"Hi," I began.

"What do you need? Healing? Medical Supplies?" Zelka asked.

"Well, advice more than anything," I said.

"Of course,” he murmured, tilting his head in acknowledgment. “What seems to be the problem?"

I'd tried to rehearse this in my head during the last hour. It hadn't helped. "I hit my head severely a few days ago, and ever since then I haven't been thinking straight."

Zelka peered at me through wizened eyes. "You may have concussion. Would you like me to examine you?"

"I don’t think that’s it," I replied. "I've been having some strong thoughts that are totally out of character, and I can't seem to control them."

"Can you elaborate on these thoughts?" he questioned. His bushy eyebrows raised as he continued to stare at me searchingly.

"Well, I'm usually a shy person," I lied. "But lately I've been having violent… urges. Like, someone's been rude to me, and I've had to restrain myself from pushing them." Pushing them. Yeah… nice euphemism. Let's not tell him about my murder pangs.

"I see," Zelka answered, and then looked at my hand. "Pushed someone recently, have you?"

I flushed. "Uh, a fight I couldn't get out of." A fight where I killed an innocent.

"Hmm." Zelka picked up a pot of salve and started seeing to my hand as he continued the conversation. "And you've been having these thoughts ever since you hit your head?"

"Yes," I replied, "and I really need to concentrate on what I'm doing right now, but my emotions keep making this difficult.”

A frown creased the older man’s face as he cleaned my hand. I tried not to wince. "Can you recall the events leading up to your injury?"

"Well, not really. It's all hazy." Like the last year. “I woke up on the ground with my head split open. Everything’s been crazy since then.”

Zelka was silent for a long time. "It could be your conscious self has forgotten something," he said slowly. Hah! And the prize goes to the good doctor! "Strong emotional outbursts after a head injury can be indicative of short-term amnesia. If some incident occurred that your conscious mind finds too traumatic to recall, your sub-conscious may have protected it as a defense mechanism. That could perhaps explain the emotional outbursts – your inner emotions manifesting in other ways. Are you sure your head injury was an accident?"

"Um, yeah." How would I know, if I can't remember it?

"Hmm." He didn't look convinced. "Well, I'm not a psychoanalyst. My advice would be to go to your family or loved ones, and spend some time recuperating there."

"I-I can't," I hedged, "not for awhile, anyway. I just need some advice on how to deal with this. I've tried controlling my emotions, but that doesn't seem to work."

"That's probably because you are battling rather than resolving them," he countered. "I would also suggest meditation as a method for calming your mind. There are many tutorials on the holonets that can help as a starting point if you do not know how."

I nodded. "Anything else?"

"If it's getting out of control I can prescribe you some medication, but the side effects are strong. Drowsiness, passivity, and reduced brain activity. I would not suggest taking it unless absolutely necessary."

No, I'd rather not. That sounds too much like the last half-year has been, scurrying around silently on the Endar Spire like a scared tach.

Zelka tapped his fingers on his desk. "Is there anything that brings you serenity? An activity that grants you peace of mind? Something you can focus on?"

I thought for awhile, struggling to remember what hobbies Jen liked. But would Jen's hobbies work for me? I sat down on the chair opposite Zelka, and closed my eyes.

Peace, serenity... what would make me feel like that? I took in a deep breath, and tried concentrating inwardly.

Focus on your breathing, a voice whispered. Focus on the Force all around you. A mild vertigo that was becoming all too familiar swept up from my gut and engulfed me.

…

I could see a wooden board in front of me, with figures of carved stone on different squares. They each had a different rune engraved on them, all indicating different tactics and specials that applied to each piece. It was a favourite pastime of mine, and certainly beat meditation. We’d brought the game from our homeworld, eschewing the more traditional dejarik in favour of it. Years ago, Freeflight had carved me a rudimentary set, back in the desolate alleys of the Western Underground.

The focus the game required forced all emotion from my head as I concentrated on pure on tactics.

I moved the Chandrilan Peace rune forward. It was seen as one of the weaker pieces, which was why so many often underestimated it.

"Match," I murmured, a smile curving on my face. A restlessness claimed me once more as my mind released the focus required to win the game.

"Nice move. You won’t catch me out that way again," a handsome young man sitting across from me said.

The scene faded, and the last thing I saw was the rueful grin lighting up the man’s face as he stared at me affectionately.

…

I opened my eyes as the present flooded back in.

"And'zhai runes," I answered Zelka slowly. I remembered the name, but not the rules. I hoped I hadn't been sitting there too long. "It's a strategy game, similar to dejarik."

"I know neither game," Zelka said, "but strategy is a good focus for calming the mind. It is like a beast, you know. The mind can be trained. If such exercises bring you serenity, then I suggest focusing on them whenever you feel your emotions going out of control.”

I nodded, but my mind was still whirling from the flashback. That was another glimpse of who I really am... and it's certainly not Jen or Evil Bitch. But the clues seemed contradictory in themselves... a street kid, who played tactical games and fought in wars, and whose best friend carried a lightsaber. How can any of that make sense?

"Got another rakghoul case," a different voice interrupted my reverie, and I glanced up to see the man from the entrance. "Some woman outside is begging you to look at her daughter in the Lower City. I don't know how she got past the Sith patrol."

"Rakghoul case? What's that?" I asked.

"It is a terrible affliction that has plagued Taris for many generations," Zelka replied. His voice was heavy. "It is spread by bites or scratches from rakghouls - beings who were once sentient, before the disease rotted most of their brain away. They live in the polluted Undercity, the open surface of Taris far beneath the great skyscrapers you see in the Upper City. We do not know how the disease first originated, but those infected mutate into rakghouls themselves, becoming no more than a wild beast attacking anything on sight."

Sounds like me, a forlorn voice whispered. "Is there no cure?" I whispered.

"Not a widely accessible one. I heard that a group of local scientists base here on Taris had perfected a vaccine, one that would stop the disease from taking root - and even halt its progression if caught in the early stages." A scowl formed on the Human's face. "Then the Sith imposed their quarantine. We have had a Sith presence on Taris for some years, but they had left academic institutions alone. Not any longer. They overran the laboratories, and now refuse access to anyone but their own forces. The Sith have copies of the prototype serum, but will not to distribute it. If I could just get my hands on a sample then the rakghoul disease could be wiped from the face of Taris forever!" Zelka declared in obvious passion. He sighed, then, the fierce emotion draining from his lined face. "But I don't see how that's going to happen."

I wanted to help this man. "Maybe I could find a way to get that serum for you." Jen, go away.

"I don't see how anyone could get their hands on it," he concluded, and his manner had returned to the brisk clinician of earlier. "The labs are crawling with Sith guards. Breaking in there would be tantamount to suicide. And now, I'd best see this lady waiting outside."

"Thank you for your advice, Zelka," I responded. "I appreciate it."

"I hope it helps. You can always come back if you are still having problems. There are a few hypnotic techniques we can try, but there are risks involved."

ypnosis? No thanks. I've already had someone screw with my mind.

Zelkalooked at me steadily. "I can sell you that medication if you think you may need it."

"It couldn't hurt. How much?" Always good to be prepared, I guess. The passive side-effects are slightly worrying... but you never know when drugs could come in handy. Zelka gave me a small bottle of meds, plus a few sedation hypoderms, for about half the credits I'd lifted that night.

Zelka nodded farewell to me, and walked away to greet his next patient.

I stood up, and stretched. Onasi's probably scared silly I've run off again. I should head back. But as I passed the assistant, he nudged me. It was about as subtle as a ferracrete brick.

"Psst! You there," he whispered loudly. "Wait a minute. I need to talk to you about the rakghoul serum. I've got an offer you might want to hear."

"An offer?" I quirked an eyebrow in question. There was a greasy sort of look about the man I didn’t quite trust.

"Zelka isn't the only one who wants to get his hands on the rakghoul serum. The Exchange will pay you ten times what Zelka can afford if you get the cure."

"Um, no thanks," I mumbled, edging away. I don't want to start my raging thoughts going again!

"Don't be stupid!" He followed me, his voice insistent and grating. "We're talking a thousand creds here! Just remember, if you get your hands on that serum, take it to Zax at the Lower City bounty office. He can get you in touch with an Exchange agent."

I fled outside. But... a thousand credits? That'll be enough to get me a trip outta here after we rescue Flyboy's Jedi girlfriend. I recoiled. No! I know what the Exchange will do... they'll start selling it. To desperate people, for exorbitant prices. Zelka's the sort who'll do it for no profit. But I needed the creds... there was no denying that. What about the people suffering from the disease? Most of them will be screwed by the Exchange, unless they're rich! My thoughts swirled dangerously... rage and need and empathy crashing together in a nauseating vortex.

I swallowed as Zelka's advice came to mind. With a wrench, I strained to concentrate on a single And'zhai piece. All those rune stones in different places. I couldn't remember how to play, but I could sense the tactical possibilities, the calm concentration needed.

The anger and the fear slowly dissipated, like smoke dispersing into the wind. Serenity.

Wow, that actually worked.

Yet, as I walked away, I realized that a thousand credits had its’ own allure.

xXx

Chapter Text

Into the dark

- Carth Onasi -

She's gone again. I frowned, and tried to concentrate on blaster I was repairing. The thermal battery was completely shot, so I was busy pulling apart our spare to get a replacement.

I wasn’t sure if I should worry or not. Jen was obviously still affected by her head injury; there were enough times I’d caught a blank, almost dizzy look on her face. And she’d fainted in the middle of Taris with no warning at all. Part of me felt like she needed to be tucked up in a medical bed, recuperating – and yet, it was due to her that we now knew where Bastila was.

It was due to her that we’d even made it to the Lower City.

I wished I'd heard that conversation. Jen had sweet-talked her way past the turbo-lift guard quicker than she'd lost the credits in Javyar's cantina. It'd been verging on the ridiculous for me to suggest it had anything to do with the Force… but I found it hard to believe Jen could be charismatic enough to make a Sith soldier look the other way. These guys were meant to stop unauthorised traffic – traffic, that might be Republic fugitives in disguise. Maybe I’m not giving Jen’s charm enough credit. Or maybe she has a secret stash of money put aside, earmarked especially for bribing corrupt enemy soldiers. After all, she’d kept those extra stims quiet from me. But… surely, the amount required to make a Sith look the other way had to be obscene, considering they’d be court-martialed for that sort of infringement.

The Republic Navy didn’t look too kindly on bribery and corruption – I highly doubted the Sith Military was any more lenient.

Our situation was about as capricious as Jen’s temperament. We were flat broke, but with unrestricted access to all of Taris. We knew where Bastila was – but first we had to break into a heavily guarded gang base. And follow that up with winning a local swoop contest.

As a boy, I used to race swoops on an underground track. I’d been particularly mediocre at it. Turns out that swoop skills aren’t quite the same as piloting, thank the stars.

The door swished open, and my hand tightened on the disassembled blaster.

"Oh, you're awake," Jen commented as she swept into the room. The relief that hit me was mingled with annoyance.

"Yes," I responded bitingly. "I take it you don't believe in sleep?"

"Are you getting testy again?" A small smile curved her lips, but it didn't look genuine. She walked in further and sat down on the unmade bed. I strongly doubted just how invested she was in our mission. Stop thinking about it, Onasi. She’s here and we have an objective. Things aren’t hopeless.

"I don't get testy, I get angry," I returned, "and if I was angry, you wouldn't need to ask me."

"Fine!" She threw her hands up in mock defeat, and I noticed one was bandaged. My eyes narrowed.

"Have you been in another fight?" I demanded. A dull red colour suffused her face. Let me guess, she’s been out 'acquiring' things again.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jen answered in a cool voice.

"Fine!" I parroted her sarcastically. Why am I so grumpy? Maybe I was being unreasonable, too. We only had each other to rely on, and despite her recklessness and unreasonably short temper, we had made a surprising amount of progress. And a lot of it was due to her.

I sighed, and Jen echoed me. She looked tired. “Shall we just get on with things?" she asked.

I nodded and reassembled my gun. “Okay, so let’s aim to get down to the Undercity today. The lift we’ve been using down to the lower levels goes quite deep; hopefully we won’t need to descend much further. I downloaded a public map when we first landed – it’s incomplete, but I’ve found a couple of routes I think go all the way down.”

I sat down next to her after retrieving my personal datapad. It wasn’t easy making sense of the warrens of turbo-lifts that interconnected Taris, particularly not on a small, two-dimensional screen. If only we had a holo-map reader. It didn’t seem to be an issue for Jen, though, who’d nabbed the datapad five minutes in, and was scrolling through it like a navigational expert.

She shot me a frown. “Why didn’t you show this to me earlier? Y’know, when we were hunting for turbo-lifts the other day?”

“I- uh, well, our main purpose was to find an unguarded lift, if you recall.” I hadn’t actually noticed the holo-map until this morning, when I trawled through the informational package Zelka had downloaded for me days ago. It was an embarrassing oversight.

Jen had a disbelieving look on her face, but turned back to the map for several minutes of silence. Finally she sighed, looking up at me once more. Her green eyes were serious.

“There’s lots of black spots riddled through the lower levels. Some are marked as condemned buildings – usually filled with permacrete to grant additional support to the higher levels. But there’s other places the maps don’t cover. And there’s almost nothing on the surface. The true surface, I mean.”

“They call it the Outside,” I said quietly. “Vast areas of polluted space underneath all of Taris. That’s where the rakghouls are.” I’d never heard of a disease both so debilitating and quick to infect others. I had a hard time believing every horror accredited to these rakghouls, but it was obvious we’d be best to avoid them.

“I heard about them,” she whispered.

“We only need to find a way to the sewers,” I reminded her. “Can we get there without encountering these rakghouls?”

She traced a finger over the datapad. Looking over, I saw her turning various filters on and off the map. “Effluent tubes all travel down to the sewers, but they’re too small for sentients our size. I don’t think the ducting’s connected in any meaningful way – well, if it is, it’s not charted. According to this map – which is incomplete in many areas – the only way is via the Outside. There is a small outpost next to a turbo-lift though - check this out.”

A habitation marker on the Undercity level blinked at me. I looked over to Jen, and saw resolution fire in her eyes. The side of her mouth quirked.

“That’s where we start, Flyboy. See if they’ve encountered Mission.”

Finding our way to the Undercity habitat and questioning the locals made sense. It was entirely possible that Mission Vao had gone back to the Bek base or elsewhere by now, but scoping out the area down below was a good starting point. I felt a renewed purpose, and stood, ready to get going.

Jen didn't follow. I looked back, remembering she'd been out for at least part of the night, and felt a mingled sense of irritation and concern. There were deep lines of exhaustion on her face.

"Are you ready to go?" I prompted. "Is... is something wrong?"

“It’s just-” she sighed, before turning a scowl on me. “You said a lot of things about me didn’t add up. But I know next to nothing about you – or even about Bastila. You know, the Jedi we’re risking our necks for daily.”

“She’s our commanding officer, Jen,” I said warningly. Jen’s getting cold feet. Again. Jen was the last person I’d call cowardly, after seeing her in battle – yet here she was, once more talking herself out of her debt to me.

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “And she’s young, right? How is it a young Jedi Knight was in command of a Republic cruiser? Does that make any sense?”

“Padawan,” I corrected, and then kicked myself for it.

Jen choked. “Excuse me? You’ve got to be frelling joking…”

I winced, and shook my head. “Afraid not. Look, I don’t have all the answers. Republic HQ and the Jedi Order work together sometimes, particularly on the more sensitive missions. Bastila was in the company of several knights and one master. I think her command was a token gesture rather than a real one, but regardless – we were there to obey the directive of the Jedi.”

She looked at me like I'd grown two heads, still muttering padawan under her breath. I sighed. "Look, Jen, even you can't deny how significant her battle meditation is to the war effort. Combine that with her fame since her strike team killed Darth Revan a year ago, and you can see why she was the popular choice to lead the Endar Spire."

In truth, Jen's reaction had been similar to mine, when I'd first heard about the insane directive that put the young Jedi hero in command. Bastila Shan – for all her reputation – was inexperienced at leading troops. And while it'd been the Cerean Jedi Master accompanying her who'd made the decisions, just the fact that Bastila held the authority on a technicality was enough ridiculous and dangerous.

It just made no blasted sense.

Jen was grimacing, clutching at the side of her head. The head injury had been a severe one, for all that it was no longer noticeable through her dark curly mop. It must be healing well. At least, Jen's barely made a peep about it. I couldn't deny that Jen Sahara was one tough customer - especially for an academic.

There was a dazed look on her face. “Battle meditation?” Jen asked weakly.

At once I felt a surge of anger at her obvious deception. There was no one alive who worked for the Jedi Order and didn’t know about Bastila’s rare Force gift that boosted morale and improved the reflexes of entire armies. They said it’d been a lost Jedi art, forgotten through the ages until Nomi Sunrider had manifested the ability. Nomi Sunrider was a hero of the previous generation and long gone now – and Bastila was, apparently, even stronger. Her remarkable psychic prowess had helped the Republic score a few key victories in the devastating war we were slowly losing.

Jen was staring at me, an uneasy look on her face. Suddenly, I wondered if she truly didn’t know, even though that didn’t seem remotely possible.

She stood before I could say anything, her expression dropping once more a composed mask. “Let’s get some breakfast first,” she murmured.

I nodded, retrieving my two working blasters, and eyed her over. “Where's your vibrosword?"

Jen paled. "I lost it," she muttered. I immediately felt suspicious. How can you lose a vibrosword? I sighed. I probably don’t want to know.

"Grab the spare one." I pointed at the blade she had lifted from her first looting mission. The grenades were still sitting in a spare satchel. "And Jen-" I paused, as her wary eyes met mine. "Uh, the rakghouls are pretty dangerous in the Undercity, you know."

Her expression was derisive. "Yes. I know."

"What I mean, uh, is that you should, well, be a little more careful." I felt awkward, stammering like an idiot – but her penchant for running head-first into battle bordered on the suicidal.

"I'll try." She smiled falsely at me, and I felt my ire returning.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is, use a blaster would you?" I snapped. She's going to get bitten, I know it. And if what they say is true, then it only takes one bite and you're infected. It was hard to separate fact from fiction, but I did have faith in what the doctor had told me. There was no readily available cure. Stang, if only I could check out the Undercity by myself!

Jen had closed her eyes, and was taking in a deep, audible breath.

"Are you trying to control your temper?" I asked, my irritation warping into something close to amusement.

"Yes, actually. I thought you wouldn't appreciate me cutting your head off, but do let me know if I'm wrong," she snapped.

Well, there went my sense of humour. "Look, let’s just get going, alright?"

After a pointedly silent breakfast we headed back down to Lower Taris. I certainly wasn't in the mood to converse, and so far Jen was following suit. Of course, the chances of Jen staying silent longer than ten minutes were considerably lower than that of winning a Hutt’s lottery, but one could always hope.

"Carth, can I ask you some questions?" she asked as we walked down the Lower City corridors.

I struggled not to groan. "Oh? You want to argue some more, is that it?"

"I'm always up for a good fight," she quipped.

I laughed despite myself. Damn woman. I actually couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed. I glanced at her, and saw that mischievous twist to her mouth I was almost becoming fond of. Her eyes still had a bleak cast to them, despite the humour dancing there. I wondered what had happened to her last night. "I suppose a few questions can't hurt. What is it?"

"Well," she began, "I was just wondering if you knew about the ruins that the Jedi onboard the Endar Spire were investigating."

She was the one hired by the Jedi Order, not me! I frowned at her. "I'm sure you'd know more about their quest than I."

She avoided my gaze. "I know they were looking at ruins, which was why they hired me. But they refused to tell me anything about them in advance. Confidentiality clauses, and all that."

"Jen, I was onboard as an advisor to the navi-pilots. The Jedi certainly didn't tell me anything I didn't need to know. They like to be mysterious." I couldn't quite stop the bitterness from reaching my voice.

She arched an eyebrow at me. "You really don't like the Jedi much, do you?"

I shrugged, in what I hoped was dismissal of the subject. What self-respecting Republic soldier does like the Jedi? For all that they’re on our side, they have this nasty habit of sweeping in where they’re not wanted, and up-ending everybody’s carefully worked-out battle plans. Oh, and keeping you in the dark. "I don't dislike them. I just don't particularly trust them much."

"You don't trust anyone much," she muttered.

"I have my reasons." I frowned at her from under lowered brows. "Look, I'm not overly fond of the Jedi because I've seen firsthand just what damage they can do."

"Damage? Jedi?" She sounded incredulous.

"Have you never heard of the Dark Side?" I said impatiently.

"Oh, you mean the Sith."

"Yes, and most of them used to be Jedi." I sighed. "I fought in the Mandalorian wars, under Revan and Malak. They were heroes. No one expected them to turn on us the way they did. Think about it... if you can't even trust the best of the Jedi, who can you trust?"

Her bright green eyes clouded with a faraway look, and once more we lapsed into silence.

xXx

The trip to the Undercity was fairly uneventful, and quicker than I’d expected. Other than two gang brawls – both of which we’d heard in advance, and managed to deftly avoid – we were able to navigate the maze of dilapidated tunnels and grinding turbo-lifts with surprising ease. Jen’s chosen route was both efficient and successful, despite her misgivings about the accuracy of the map.

The Sith guards we encountered let us pass without any comment, validating the authorisation papers Gadon had granted us. I'd wondered about their authenticity, until Jen had pointed out - with a political astuteness unusual for a scholar - that behind the scenes, the Sith and the gangs probably worked together to control the population flow. If that was true, then it explained how Gadon Thek could so readily gift strangers with the ability to traverse the full depth of Taris. Jen also commented that the Exchange likely had the same freedom.

I really did not like Taris.

The lower we descended, the less guarded the lifts were. Some were deserted, some no longer operational, and one was surrounded by a handful of Vulkars. It hadn't taken Jen long to backtrack and find another route. She seemed at ease in this environment, which led me to wonder if her service records were missing part of her history. Reconciling this operation with her years spent in an academic institution was difficult at best.

The map only showed one lift that hit the Undercity – right next to the small community Jen had pointed out. The lights in the elevator had long gone, and I was thankful for the small light rods we’d obtained from Kebla’s shop the previous day.

When we finally hit rock bottom and the buckled durasteel doors grated open, the smell hit my senses before anything else. Ugh, people live in this stench? I supposed they had no choice, I'd heard that the gangs forced the homeless down here permanently.

The scene was frankly dismal. Small shacks made out of rubble – mostly broken bits of plasteel and durasteel – lined the open courtyard. A few shuffling sentients lumbered about, the denizens of this bleak world. Everything was bathed in a grimy brown light, which was probably the only version of sunshine that reached this shadowy corner of Taris.

"You there! Upworlder!" A man dressed in filthy rags stumbled towards us. "Anyone using this elevator has to pay the toll!"

"I don't believe this planet!" I muttered incredulously, deactivating my light rod. I heard Jen stifle a laugh. "Look, we don't have any credits." Unless, of course, Jen lifted some during the night.

A second drifter joined the first. "You're lying, you're an upworlder! It's our elevator, if you use it you've got to give us something!" They didn't look at all threatening, being empty-handed, gaunt and obviously desperate. And yet, I wondered at their bravado, knowing that the Sith would have already been down here to search for escape pods. I bet they didn’t tell the Sith it was their elevator.

Jen stepped up beside me, lifted her blaster, and declared loudly, "get out of here you filthy beggars, or I'll use my blaster to end your suffering permanently!"

The beggars squawked, clutched at each other, and ran.

I stared at Jen in shock. "What, picking on the homeless now?" Is she angry again? But no, she seemed to be composed. I felt my mood coalesce into disbelief – though frankly, nothing Jen could do these days should surprise me anymore.

"Hey, I was using the blaster, isn't that what you wanted?" She quirked a brow at me, but her expression turned sheepish under my glare. "To be honest, we don't really have credits to give them. They would have stuck around harassing us if I hadn't threatened them."

"Uh huh," I responded suspiciously. Sometimes, when it came to Jen, it was really hard to know what to believe.

I turned my attention back to the Undercity. Most of the inhabitants were content to leave us be, staring warily from a distance - possibly after witnessing two beggars flee from us as if their lives depended on it. One young woman was bold enough to approach, and let slip a little about the area. We were far from the only visitors here, she informed us. In fact, the Undercity seemed a meeting place for all the sorts of people I wanted to avoid. Exchange mercenaries. Vulkars on a looting mission. Oh, and let’s not forget the Sith. But as for an adolescent Twi’lek and an overgrown Wookiee, no. The young woman knew them, though - which at least spoke of Mission’s notoriety if nothing else.

I thanked the girl absently, and wandered through the ramshackle village with Jen at my heels. The place was surrounded by titasteel gates to keep the rakghouls out and grant the hopeless dwellers some semblance of safety. Presumably there were other camps scattered around the place, and the idea of being forced to live in such filth and darkness made me pity all the dwellers down here.

We were stopped briefly by a shaky old man, who latched onto Jen with a crazed expression on his wrinkled face, proclaiming her loudly to be the encampment's saviour. I bit back a chuckle at Jen's embarrassment. The nearby residents were watching the proceedings with a knowing look – obviously, this colourful character made a habit of gushing over outsiders.

Jen scowled at me when she finally managed to shake the old coot loose – I did my best to hide a grin, but judging by her glare I wasn't successful. She stomped off in the direction of the outpost's leader.

After a brief conversation, we found that he had seen Mission Vao. Late last night, but she hadn't yet returned through the locked gates. Jen and I looked at each other, both silently wondering the same thing: was the young Twi'lek stuck out there somewhere? Or did she know of another way out of the Undercity?

Considering the kid’s apparent resourcefulness, I suspected the latter.

Jen started stalking towards the high barricade that encircled the habitation, making a beeline for the guard. The gate had to be at least ten feet high, made of a resilient looking mesh that connected to titasteel pillars spaced no more than two metres apart. The gate was reinforced with additional durasteel beams, but we could see through the mesh. Beyond lay a murky, desolate nothingness. Jen can't seriously be thinking of going out there yet, can she? I strode to catch up.

"What are you doing, Jen?” I asked. “We’re not going out there, not until we find Mission-"

A scream from beyond the gates caught our attention - and that of the guard.

“Let me in! Please, there’s no ‘ghouls around!” a young girl’s voice came from the darkness beyond. The ambient brownish light didn’t extend far, and through the gates we saw a figure emerge at breakneck speed, running directly towards the gate guard.

He held up a blaster, scanning the area competently before quickly opening the gates.

My mouth dropped open as I recognized the form of Mission Vao herself. How coincidentally fortuitous. The girl was frantic; even as the gates closed behind her, she’d turned, scanning hopelessly back into the depths of the Outside.

Her hands were empty, clenched tight at her sides. Her headtails were flicking around her shoulders in distress, and a utility belt hung askew from her waist. Where's her Wookiee friend?

 “Mission!” Jen called, and the Twi’lek spun around, her eyes lighting on us in desperation.

“Jen! I remember you two!” she gasped, and ran towards us. This close I could see the fear in her eyes. “Please, say you’ll help me!”

“What happened?” I asked in concern. Her face crumpled.

“They took him!” she sobbed. “They took us, but I managed to escape. I can’t leave him there, but the Beks won’t come to the Undercity. Not even for me. Please – you two know how to fight – please help me!”

A loaded look passed between me and Jen, before we both turned back to face Mission.

"Whoa, slow down, Mission," Jen said in a calming voice. "What's wrong?"

The Twi’lek hiccupped, and her bright eyes filled with tears. "It's Zaalbar. It’s all my fault. I hassled him to go into the sewers again – we’ve been fine there before, but my ‘scanner was playing up and we didn’t spot them. Please – I’ll pay you – we’ve got to go back for him. Those ronto-turds will sell him into slavery – or worse!”

"Mission," I said slowly. "Deep breaths. We need detail here. Who took him?'

She sniffled. "Gamorreans. I've seen them before in the lower levels, but never in the sewers. Maybe the stink reminds them of home – I dunno. They caught us both – they're slave hunters, probably running a trade through the Vulkar base or something – but we have to hurry! Please!"

"Of course we'll help you, Mission," Jen soothed. She glanced back at me. "We actually need your help in return."

I tensed; Gamorreans were tough and mean - tusked humanoid creatures that were often hired as brutes for the Exchange or anyone with enough credits. But they were also notoriously thick and slow. Our advantage would be to catch them from a distance. This could be exactly what we need. Luck or chance, this is a surefire way to win Mission's aid.

"You'll help me?" Mission's eyes were now shining with hope. She sniffed, and turned back to the guard. "Great!" she called over her shoulder. "Thank you! Let's go!"

Jen made to follow. Part of me didn't like how quick the two of them were ready to jump straight into danger - without a plan, without preparations, with barely a discussion of our destination. Although, if it was my friend, I'd be racing back too. And the longer we take, the more chance the Wookiee gets moved.

"Jen, wait a minute," I called. "Look, before we head out – I need to say something."

Jen turned back to me wearing a frown of impatience. Mission was all but tapping her foot, panic and hope vying for dominance on her young face.

"It's just, uh, what I said earlier today," I muttered. "The rakghouls sound pretty crazy. Almost as crazy as you, heh." I coughed as her frown deepened. "Look, I just get this feeling you're going to get bitten by one. Just- just try to be careful? For my sake?"

Her face smoothed before transforming into a saccharine smile. "Aw, Flyboy, I didn't know you felt that way." She stalked away, motioned to the guard, and strode out of the gates with Mission at her heels - leaving me staring at her departing back.

"Argh!" I groaned in frustration, and followed her out. "Damn fool woman!"

The gates squeaked as they shut behind us. Jen stopped, lifting her blaster while she canvassed the area. As I stepped to her side, she threw a grin at me, but it looked forced. Just like it had all day. Something's been bothering her since last night.

I held my blaster defensively, visually searching the barren landscape. No rakghouls in sight, just darkness and rubble. "Where did you go last night, Jen?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she responded, an echo of this morning’s conversation. Mission was looking between the two of us apprehensively.

"Did you go on a looting mission again?" I persisted.

“Is this really the time?” she asked in a sardonic tone, her eyes still darting at the shadows that encompassed us.

“I-uh, well-” Probably not, I realized in embarrassment.

“Okay, yes,” she said shortly. “Yes, I did. Yes, I broke my promise, and yes, we have more credits. Oh, and no, I don’t want to talk about it."

I guess I deserved that. The Twi’lek looked uncomfortable, and I noticed she was still empty-handed. I turned my attention to her.

“Mission, do you have a weapon?” I asked quietly.

She shook her head, her lekku curling around her neck defensively. “The Gamorreans stripped us clean. They left my belt – although they emptied it first. But at least I still got that.” She fiddled with it and I heard an unfamiliar click. Suddenly Mission’s figure blurred, encased by a reflective shield that almost hid her from sight.

Jen blinked in surprise. “Stealth fold generator,” she said in awe, echoing my disbelief. “Those are rare, Mission. How’d you get your hands on one of those?”

A click and Mission reappeared in solid colour. She had a faint grin on her face as I turned my attention back to the surroundings. “It helps to be friends with a gang leader. There’s not many of these around, but they’re useful in the Undercity. The rakghouls can’t see me when it’s on.”

Stealth fold technology was still emerging, and only useful in low light as it was glaringly easy to spot the blurry outline of a stealthed person. Possibly that was why stealth belts hadn’t really taken off on the open market – it’s benefits were limited, and the wearer had to move slowly to stop the field from being disrupted.

“The rakghouls must have poor visibility then,” Jen was murmuring. “That’s good to know.”

"Take a blaster, kid." I handed one to Mission. She was quick to grab it, even as her face contorted into a hot glare.

“I ain’t a kid!” Mission snapped.

"Sorry," I muttered, struggling not to roll my eyes. Note to self: don't call the kid a kid. Although, to be fair, she probably felt like I was talking down to her – something I'd detested as a kid, myself. "Do you know how to use a blaster?"

She nodded, the annoyance vanishing from her face. "Yeah, but we relied on our bio-scanners to stay out of trouble. You guys have 'scanners, right?"

 “Uh, no,” Jen admitted. “So you need to lead us quickly to the sewers. Can you do that?”

At the girl’s nod we headed out, leaving the safety of the gates well behind us.

The Undercity smelled like burnt rubbish and rotting flesh, a rancid sort of stench that reminded me sharply of past battles. I'd fought in the Mandalorian Wars, but usually in the skies, behind the safety of a swift snubfighter's guns. I'd been good at it, damn good, but there'd been a few occasions when I'd been involved in ground battles.

They were nastier and bloodier. Deaths were more personal when one had to raise a gun and shoot the enemy in the face. And I found, as we walked along, that cauterized flesh and burning machinery smelled an awful lot like the Outside of Taris.

Jen and I flanked Mission, guns drawn as we strode through the desolate environment. The ground was a hard-packed clay, littered with broken slabs of permacrete and fallen titasteel cables. I’d heard that sometimes parts of Taris would collapse, creating sinkholes in amongst the mid-levels of the ecumenopolis, causing carnage for whatever inhabitants were in close proximity. The great Tarisian machine would plow on, rebuilding over the rubble in a piecemeal fashion.

“You said you wanted my help?” Mission whispered at one stage, leading us past a towering pile of plasticeel off-cuts. On her face was a fragile look of hope that was almost heartbreaking to see. She is just a kid, no matter that she hates the label. A kid who is racing into danger to rescue her friend. If nothing else, this Mission had guts – but it would've been nice to acquire her help without charging down a bunch of slavers.

"Yeah," Jen responded. "Gadon said you'd help me get inside the Vulkar base."

"The Vulkar base?" Mission's lekku twitched. "You're going there? Cool! Sure, I can help. Big Z and me both, once you get him out of the sewers.”

Cool? Cool?! I stared at the girl in dawning horror. She's going to get on well with Jen. Far too well, I suspect.

A shout up ahead had us all tensing in readiness; we stopped, blasters aimed, as a company of men slowly materialized from the brown gloom. As it became obvious they weren't rakghouls, Jen and I slowly lowered our weapons. Mission was still clutching hers awkwardly until I nudged her.

When the closest stranger came into range, he raised a rifle and called out to us in a nervous voice.

"Don't... don't move! I'm... I'm not afraid to use this blaster if I have to!"

An armoured man from further behind strode up next to him, laying a cautionary hand on his arm. "Settle down, kid," he said gruffly, in a thick accent I knew all too well. Mandalorian. An instinctive feeling of dislike wedged itself in my gut. I had to remind myself that that particular war was now over.

The Mandalorian turned to face us, eyed us up and down, and dismissed us with a glance. "By the looks of you I'd say you're down here for the same reason we are: to salvage something from those downed Republic space pods. Let me give you some advice: forget about it. Do yourself a favour and just head back the way you came." He issued it like a command. Heh, that's going to annoy Jen. But as I looked at her, a strange expression crossed over her face.

She said something back to the leader, something foreign and incomprehensible – but the sounds were all too familiar. She can speak Mandalorian? A sharp look of surprise crossed the weather-beaten face of the lead merc. He snapped something back at her in the same tongue.

They’re having a conversation. Jen’s having a blasted conversation in Mandalorian!

I’d caught enough phrases during the war to recognize a battle greeting of sorts, followed by the man introducing himself as Canderous – but the rest was an unintelligible garble. The man gave Jen an almost respectful nod which she returned, before calling the rest of the mercs to follow him as he strode briskly away.

"Wow, he looked pretty tough!" Mission whispered as the group disappeared from view. “Did he say anything interesting?”

"Hang on, sister," I said warningly as Jen started moving away. "You can speak Mandalorian?"

"Well, um, I learnt languages when I was studying," she muttered.

"I thought you studied archaeology," I countered. I could feel myself frowning.

"Cool, did ya go to a university or something?" Mission cut in. "Where you from, Jen?"

Jen looked at me blandly, and turned to answer Mission instead. "A planet called Deralia. I studied mostly archaeology, anthropology, and languages."

And languages? Now why does it sound like she tacked that on to the end for my benefit?

"But Mandalorian?" I muttered skeptically. I've had my doubts whether she's loyal to the Republic before. This just seems to confirm it.

"Hey, is that an escape pod?" Jen pointed further ahead. As a way to stop my questions, it was pretty effective. And true, too - a cone shape was embedded deep into the ground from the direction that Canderous' group had emerged. That caught my attention, and I mentally let the conversation go. Why Jen could speak Mandalorian was something I'd find out later – for now, I decided, I'd best just keep my mind on our surroundings.

"Let's go have a quick look," I said.

The cockpit of the escape pod was mostly intact, door included, but the remainder was a pile of twisted metal and scorch marks. We searched through the rubble only to find it had already been stripped clean.

Mission started poking about in it curiously, but Jen was keeping watch, eyes tight on the environment.

"There's something up ahead," Jen muttered, going rigid. My eyes snapped up, and I could see three lumbering figures heading towards us. Rakghouls. That must be rakghouls. My gut clenched, my muscles tensed, and my blaster raised into the air.

Mission squeaked and, with a click, transformed into a fuzzy blur. I stepped next to Jen, weapons primed and targets sighted, and fired when the first was in range.

Although slow and easily staggered by a blaster bolt, the mutants were resilient and required multiple shots before they fell. They're tough. Without armour, a single blaster hit to the torso would down most sentients. Tougher than I expected. Jen and I fired in unison, and the second one dropped about ten paces away from us. Damn, they must have a weakness. I squinted, and steadied my aim. This one's going down, I thought determinedly as it lurched closer.

The wind was knocked from my lungs as something slammed into my side, knocking me to the ground. Mission screamed. What the...? I struggled to move, but a heavy weight pinned me, snarling. A fourth rakghoul? I'd been concentrating so fiercely on my aim that I'd been caught unawares, I realized in self-disgust.

I grunted, twisted my arm free and shot it in the head, just as its teeth dug into my shoulder. Red hot pain lanced through my side, and I heard it shriek from the blaster wound. It swiped its claws through my armour, and bit down on my other arm. One shot in the head is not enough? I screamed as its jaw clamped down a third time on my arm, and the smell of rotting flesh invaded my senses. Blood filled my eyes, and with a desperate grunt I rammed my blaster into the growling mass of fur, firing again and again. What does it take for these things to die?

The weight was lifted off me and I gasped, opening eyes to see Jen. Her face was pinched was obvious fear. And worry. Hah. She’s worried – about me, of all people. Dull horror pounded through my head as I abruptly understood why she was so worried. I've got the rakghoul disease, I thought numbly. I'm a dead man.

"This is bad, Republic!" she muttered, trying to drag me up into a sitting position. A sudden pain sheared through my arm. I glanced down; the bites left ragged wounds that were bleeding hot red liquid over my limb.

My vision blurred and my shoulder throbbed. My fingertips prickled with numbness. "Don't call me that," I said through clenched teeth.

"Mission – how long does it take for someone to transform?" Jen demanded.

"Um, I dunno! A day, maybe. But he's been bitten heaps, Jen! It'll be, like, way less time!" Mission’s voice was shaken, scared. "There's no way to stop the rakghoul disease!"

Poetic justice. I was so certain Jen would be the one to get into trouble.

"You've got to go," I rasped. This is the end. Horror curled in my stomach. Those rakghouls had been vicious, mindless beasts. Agony was burning in my shoulder, and I imagined the venom slowly circulating through my system, a ticking countdown until death. Worse than that. I could kill Jen and Mission. “I might transform. You need to go!”

"Sith patrols carry the serum," Jen told me. Serum? I haven't heard about any cure for the disease. Jen was crouching next to me, pulling apart one of Kebla’s medpacs before hurriedly dressing my arm and shoulder. I couldn’t hold back a grunt of pain. “This 'pac only has that cheap gree-bacta salve,” she muttered. “We’ll get you more kolto in the Upper City.”

“Jen.” My good arm raised outward, stopping her ministrations. Serious green eyes met mine in the faint glow of Mission’s light rod. “We don’t know how long I have. I-” I shook my head, and pushed her away gently, clambering to my feet. A sudden surge of dizziness had me stumbling back to the ground.

Pain stabbed deep into my shoulder, and I groaned, vaguely aware that Jen was wrapping something against my arm again. The ground was rocky and uneven underneath me. “You should shoot me,” I mumbled. I’m going to transform into one of those monsters. No!

I felt my eyes closing, and my entire limb was throbbing a painful ache with every beat of my heart. Pushing the disease deeper and deeper into my body. I thought we’d been doing so well, too. Should have known it would go belly up. "I'll kill you, if I transform. End it, before I kill you!"

Funny, I always thought my end would be on the frontlines. With enemy snubs in the viewport, firing on as many as I could, while some black-hearted bastard got a lucky shot on me-

“Onasi, get up,” Jen snapped, one arm underneath me and the other pulling on my good side. “Stop being such a baby.”

What? Outrage at her unjust name-calling had me glaring at her. "Baby?" I spluttered, struggling to my feet as she yanked me upright. My good arm tingled. My bad arm burned.

But Jen wasn't looking at me - she was staring at the escape pod, her jaw set with determination. She gave me a push forward, and pain blossomed down my side as I stumbled, only staying upright because most of my weight was leaning on her. I wasn't... I wasn't quite sure exactly how badly I'd been hurt, but I didn't think mere flesh wounds should be this debilitating.

I've got the rakghoul disease. I'm a dead man.

“What are you doing?” Mission squeaked.

I half-walked, half-staggered as Jen continued to propel me forward. I only understood her intent when she motioned Mission to open the hatch.

“Can you get in by yourself?” Jen asked, gesturing to the escape pod with the hand that wasn't holding me upright.

It wasn't a bad idea... but the hatch door wouldn't keep me contained forever.

“If I turn, this won’t keep me,” I said quietly, my hands resting on the cool durasteel of the Endar Spire’s escape pod. With a grunt and a grimace, I clambered inside. By the time I was seated, I’d broken into a sweat and was shaking from the throbbing of my shoulder. Is that a fever setting in?

No, surely that was paranoia. It couldn’t happen that fast.

“We’ve got some time, Flyboy,” Jen said seriously. “I’ll get that serum. Hold on, okay?”

"Just make sure you find Bastila," I said weakly. My fingers felt numb and prickly. Fuzziness was drawing in around the edges of my vision. Bastila's the only hope left for the Republic. I can't really trust Jen to go after her, but I have no other choice.

"I'll rescue her, I promise." Her voice was soft.

"Heh, like you promised not to steal again?" I joked feebly.

I closed my eyes again, and heard the door shut manually above me.

xXx

Chapter Text

A pair of sneaks

- Jen Sahara - 

Panic was gnawing at the edges of my control. I strode away from the crash site, eyes searching dark corners and darker courtyards up ahead.

"You locked him in the escape pod?" Mission squeaked behind me. I was glad she'd joined us, somehow her presence made it easier for me to stay calm. She follows me for now; I must be strong. While the focusing trick Zelka suggested had helped, it only subdued my inner turmoil. The rogue emotions were still there, deep in a distant corner of my mind; a mingled fear and fury I could ignore but not entirely forget.

"Seemed like a good idea. He doesn't have time for us to move him to a safer place."

The entire Undercity felt like it had a presence all of its own. Dark, cloying, decaying. If I hadn't seen Zelka last night, I would be mad by now. I tried to shrug off that thought. I must stay rational. Onasi needs me, Mission needs me. When did I become the strong one? Jen was the very antithesis of strength, whereas Evil Bitch... well, it was obvious she used terror as her strength.

It's the real me again, isn't it? The flashback I'd had earlier was about more than just a game. I'd elevated my psyche to a detached state, where my entire focus was on the puzzle unfolding in front of me, allowing no peripheral thoughts or emotional distractions to filter through. That's a Force trick. Somehow, I was sure of that. Was I some sort of trainee Jedi? I'd thought I'd been a street kid. Maybe I had. Maybe that boy taught me how to use the Force.

But the last few times I'd touched it I'd lost control. It was hard to ignore the power out there, all around me. At times, it felt like it wanted to be used.

Jen's voice was quieter now. Ever since the ambush on the Endar Spire, it seemed like her core personality was no more than a fading whisper in my mind, a nexus of thoughts and feelings slowly dispersing into shadows. In her place, I had grown in strength and dominance. As had Evil Bitch.

And yet, Jen's childhood memories were still there. Daydreams of quietly teaching ancient archaeology to eager students, and living out a peaceful existence amongst rural farmland. Some of her studies had actually been fascinating, in particular her research on civilizations that pre-dated Republic times.

Yet… Jen wasn't an expert. There was no logical explanation for the Jedi to specifically request only her along for a secret expedition. Headed by Bastila Shan, a key Jedi involved in the Republic war effort. I'd forgotten those details about Bastila, until Carth had dropped them like a thermal detonator earlier. Battle meditation. Her defeat of Darth Revan. Sharp pain had stabbed deep into my temple when he'd said the words. I wondered if that'd always be the case, when recollections I'd once known slammed back into my consciousness.

My intuition flat out said these symptoms were due to Force damage – somehow. Due to my unwanted bond-sister – somehow.

Focus, Jen. I had no other name for myself. Fix Onasi, rescue Bastila, then split. Break it up into simple objectives, and get the job done.

Movement up ahead caught my attention. I stopped walking, and aimed both blasters in determination. I was glad I’d had the foresight to relieve Carth of his weaponry before shutting him inside the pod.

I heard a click beside me. Mission, stealthed again. Who’d have thought a stealth belt – rare, and generally not worth the credits – would be so useful in the Undercity?

We held our ground as the rakghoul lumbered towards us. At least there’s only one. I wasn’t sure if I could handle another group of four – and this time, without Carth’s help.

I waited tensely until the creature came within range, and then started firing. Mission followed suit, and the monster soon dropped with a piercing shriek.

"I normally just hide from them," Mission whispered. “The sewers aren’t far, and our ‘scanners show us where they are.”

She doesn't like killing despite growing up in a gang, I realized. Somehow, living on the streets had not yet eroded a naive innocence that was at the Twi’lek’s core.

"Hiding's good, in case something happens to me," I said calmly. Why am I so calm? So detached, so logical? Battle rage usually takes over by this point. Going berserk right now would kill me. "But I really need your help."

"You mean it, don't you?” The startled tone in Mission’s voice took me by surprise. “I don't know if anyone's ever said that to me before."

I looked at the girl, reconsidering her abilities. Sure, she was young, and probably too impulsive, but her street skills alone made her a worthy ally. I gave her a quick smile, one I hoped would be taken as reassuring.

Walking closer to the rakghoul corpse, I checked it quickly for life signs. Dead. The mutated head was scorched with fatal blaster shots, and gluey white eyes stared back at me. I shivered, and then my gaze caught on another body nearby. Not a rakghoul. No, that’s a Human. I ran over to it, almost tripping in my haste. But searching the second corpse availed little.

"A medpac and a data-journal," I murmured, clicking on the datapad. It mentioned something about a Promised Land, and I remembered that crazy old geezer, Rukil, ranting after me in the Outcast Village. Just another chance for Onasi to bust a gut laughing at me, I thought sourly. Sod it all, I will find that serum!

"Before you ran back to the village, did you happen across any dead Sith?" I asked Mission as I stood, walking away from the corpses.

"Not today,” she answered, hurrying to keep up. “But the bodies are usually stripped clean anyway. D'ya really think they'll have serum on them?"

"I-" I don't really want to answer that. "I have to try. Blaster Boy saved my life."

Mission blinked before giggling weakly at the pet name. I smiled at her, but my heart wasn't in it.

"We could look up north, I've seen patrols round there before," she offered. I nodded to her, and we set off again.

Corpses littered the area, mostly half-eaten. I forced myself to frisk all the bodies we came across, but with each fruitless search I was becoming more disheartened. The smell of the place curled like bile in my stomach. No time to be sick. No time to be angry!

We managed to avoid a number of nearby rakghoul groups by skirting alongside rubble or broken walls. I was starting to get a feel for predicting the mutated monsters - they stuck to open areas, and usually huddled in groups of three or four. Their primary long-range sense appeared to be visible movement, and by silently sneaking within the shadows of dilapidated framework, our progress remained unhindered.

I was dimly aware that Onasi's time was running out. Part of me was panicking, scared and afraid he would die. Another side was demanding coldly that I return and kill him before he transformed. I scowled, and instead focused on the bleak landscape.

"There's some bodies up ahead, looks like Sith armour," Mission whispered, stealing back my attention.

"Good spotting," I murmured back, and she smiled brightly at me. She's not often encouraged, is she? I knew the girl was struggling to hold her own fear at bay; panic for her friend, anxiety for the environment we were in.

"We'll find the serum, Mission. And then we'll rescue Zaalbar," I said staunchly, heading over to the bodies. I could almost feel her spine stiffen in renewed resolve. Why bother with trite, meaningless words? Fear is a better motivator. I blocked the thought out, but could not dissipate my edginess. Realization of my own mortality was setting in – if Carth could go down so easily to the rakghouls, then so could I. Why am I wasting time helping a Republic pilot that could mutate into a threat? His true loyalty is not with me; his value as a tool is almost nothing. But he had saved me, and I could not – would not – leave him to die.

Fool. Attachments lead to vulnerability, to a weakness that can be exploited.

The edges of my calm unravelled; I could feel my emotions starting to spiral out of control. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes briefly and recalled the vision I’d had yesterday. A board covered in rune stones; the Coruscanti Staff rune was in the front, vulnerable on it’s left flank, but the potential for offense was there. A gap in the opponent’s line of attack – if I moved the Corellian Dagger forward, I’d be able to break right through.

The voice dimmed to a barely audible whisper. I opened my eyes, pursed my lips, and strode forward.

Mission was right; the corpses were Sith, and hope flared in my belly. I ripped off the tattered armour quickly, checking the pockets as I did so.

"Cool, an energy shield!" Mission was searching the second corpse. I found a handful of credits, and a shot of kolto, but no serum. Sithspit. I need this!

Mission stood, indicating she was finished, and shot me a despairing look. We were thinking the same: Carth's time is running out.

But ahead... ahead, was a sentient-sized lump resting motionless next to a darkened wall.

Walking closer, with my weapon gripped tight, the lump slowly morphed into the recognizable shape of a humanoid: seated, slumped, with armoured hands resting limply in its lap.

Rakghoul damage along the body's recognizable black armour became noticeable as I took another step closer.

"Another Sith corpse," I said in relief, crouching down next to the once-sentient.

A hand shot up towards me; quick, hard and fast. It slammed into my throat, armoured fingers grasping hard on my windpipe. "Not a corpse!" a voice rasped.

Shock sparked through me like wildfire. It was followed immediately by hot rage as the enemy hand tightened enough to cut off oxygen. Kill! With a gurgled snarl, I yanked my blaster up and shot the Sith twice in the face. His plasticeel visor shattered as he shrieked, flailing backwards, and the rancid scent of melted flesh and fresh blood hit the air.

The hand dropped, and the body shuddered once before stilling.

"Are you okay?" Mission gasped, voice high-pitched and panicked.

I drew in a series of deep, shuddering breaths. Imbecile! That was too close! My throat was tender, but otherwise undamaged. He's dead. I'm okay. I'm in control. I'm not angry. But the anger was sitting there, hot and heavy in my gut, demanding an outlet.

"I'm fine," I forced out through clenched teeth. The Sith corpse was bloodied and lifeless in front of me, and yet I'd assumed it was a corpse before. With a grimace, I lifted the blaster and shot the body twice more. Mission jumped. "He just took me by surprise."

Focus. I can't let my emotions control me. Not here! With an inward wrench of concentration, I forced myself to search the fresh body. There were deep gouges cracking through the leg armour of the Sith, obvious results of a rakghoul attack. With a despairing groan, I spotted an empty hypoderm lying on the ground next to him. Just my luck. He had the serum, and the bastard already used it.

With growing despondency, I continued to frisk the body as Mission moved closer to me.

"Imperial cred chits," she murmured, palming the plasteel tokens as I drew them out of the corpse's utility belt.

"A couple of stims," I muttered, squinting at a pair of hypoderms the Sith had also been carrying. "Hang on..." I jerked back to the empty needle I'd left on the ground, grabbing it swiftly and holding it next to the two unused ones. Slightly larger and more elongated than standard-issue stimulant, they all had an identical housing and plunger mechanism, with a matching barcode identification on the side.

These aren't stims. These aren't stims!

"Mission," I whispered in awe. "I think... I think this is the serum. The guy must have nabbed his friends' share. He used one; we have two left. Come on!" I scrabbled desperately to my feet. "This is it - let's go back to Captain Flyboy!"

Mission stood; her bright eyes shining with hope as she grinned at me. "Captain?"

"Yeah, he's a pilot," I answered, distracted, as I began to jog back the way we'd come.

"Pilot? Who are you guys?"

Sod it all. I've said too much again, haven't I?  "Questions later, okay?"

The landscape passed in a blur. I broke into a sprint, stopping at corners to check what was up ahead. Mission stayed silent behind me, and the only noise I could hear was our footfalls and my own heavy breathing.

Luck or good fortune kept us from any encounters, and I found myself breathing a heavy sigh of relief as the escape pod once more came into view.

The sense of reprieve collapsed a second later.

"The door's open," Mission whispered.

Fear iced through my veins. No, we can't be too late! I ran to the escape pod. The seat was empty. No! I'm the one who does the disappearing act, dammit! I glanced around frantically. He can't be gone, not like this!

"Jen... We have to- he could be anywhere-"

My gaze snagged on a body close by. Without thinking, I ran towards it.

Onasi. Barely breathing.

I ruthlessly jabbed the first hypoderm into his arm, emptying it. No response from him. He looked bad; the skin around his lower neck mottled to a black that wasn't natural. There was a sweet, sickly smell of festering flesh in the air. I pulled out the kolto I'd looted, and injected that into his upper shoulder. Onasi hadn't so much as twitched with the prick of either hypoderm.

Mission stood a few feet away, eyes wide on the scene. I rolled Onasi on his side, ripping off the earlier dressings before tearing into a medpac and pulling it apart. More smelly gree-bacta salve to smear on his shoulder and arm, even though I knew it would do nothing if the actual disease wasn't being countered. Should I use the second 'derm? If one isn't enough, would two be?

"Flyboy, wake up, damn you!" I cursed, kneeling down and shaking him. "I'll kill you if you're dead!"

A sudden cough racked his frame, and a second later his eyes opened. "I won't ask how you're going to achieve that," he said weakly. "What happened? I feel like I've been put through a slag grinder."

Mission laughed breathlessly. My panic dissipated, chased away by a hot relief. "How'd you get out of the escape pod?"

He blinked and looked at me in a daze. "The pod? The rakghouls! I- What are you doing back here?" He gulped, brown eyes widening in desperation. "Jen, leave here at once! I might transform!"

The surge of relief was almost painful, now.

"You're sounding better already," I said dryly, "if you're bossing me around again. Relax, Onasi, I found some serum."

He stared at me in shocked disbelief. "I, uh," he coughed weakly. "I don't dare believe you. I feel awful. Are you serious?"

I grinned. My eyes trailed to his exposed neck. Were the edges of the black mottling already beginning to fade? Carth might bemoan his pain, but there was no denying the keen awareness returning to his gaze. It's working. The serum is really working. "Yep. I saved your arse, Flyboy. We're square."

"Oh, heh." He closed his eyes again.

"We need to get you outta here, Onasi. You can rest in the outcast village," I said briskly, motioning to Mission. She nodded at me, and together we dragged the protesting Republic soldier to his feet.

xXx

Mission was stretching her shoulder in grumbling complaint. Mine felt a bit stiff from lugging Onasi back to the village as well. We'd got him walking, but he leaned heavily on us most of the way. I'm just relieved we were so close to the village. We would have been defenseless had the rakghouls attacked.

While Carth was still badly injured, the remnants of the disease seemed to have left him. He was weak and grumpy, but no longer dizzy or delirious. His injuries had reverted to a painful red colour. Much better than black.

The outcasts had been too panicked to let us in until I'd shown them the Sith serum. Even then, they’d suggested locking him up with some infected villagers. I think I'd scared Mission by threatening to behead the healer. Either way, we'd come to a compromise. Carth hadn't appreciated being tied tightly to a pole, but at least the resident healer promised to see to his injuries.

We're even now. This means I don't have to rescue Bastila. I was trying to ignore that little voice. It was the same one suggesting I sell the extra serum to Davik. I sat down against a wall with a heavy sigh. Too many things to think about. Not to mention that encounter I'd had earlier with the mercenaries.

…

"(This is not our battlefield; now is not yet our fight)," the words came out unexpectedly, in a foreign language, and I had to resist clamping my hand over my mouth in surprise. A vague recollection from the twisted archives of my mind told me that it was a traditional Mandalorian warrior's greeting. Mandalorian?

"(I have no fight with you)," the heavyset man responded. That's not the standard answer, I realized. But then, I'm not Mandalorian. "(I am Canderous Ordo).”

"(As they die upon my blade, my adversaries know me as Jen of clan Sahara)," I returned. Again, in Mandalorian format. He glared at me quizzically.

"(You intrigue me. But not enough to stay here and chitchat – the rakghouls have picked off enough of my men. Again, I'll repeat my advice: get out of here)." With an almost respectful nod, he led his men away.

…

The earlier flash of memory, back in Upper Taris... I'd recalled a handsome man, talking about the Mandalorian Wars. Did I fight in the Wars? I seem to be able to hold my own in battle, true enough. But... whose side was I on?

"Jen?" Mission's voice, tremulous and soft, disrupted my reverie.

"What's up Mission?"

"I'm worried about Big Z.” She was biting her lip, her shoulders tense with worry. “We need to go after him; the Gamorreans could sell him any minute!"

"Mission, don't you think we should wait until Onasi's healed up a bit?"

He was cursing in the centre of the village. Heh, Flyboy's not used to being tied up. Obviously he hasn't been meeting the right women. Every now and then he’d turn to glare at us, but I figured he'd forgive me eventually.

"That'll take too long, Jen! Carth will probably still be too hurt tomorrow, even with kolto!"

She's right. But just the two of us, heading into the sewers? "I don’t want to encounter another group of rakghouls, Mission, after what happened to Onasi. How did you and Zaalbar avoid them so easily?”

"Well-" She crouched down next to me. "The ‘scanners, as I said. And often I just hid. Big Z's pretty quiet when he wants to be, y'know. People often forget he's there. Of course we couldn't always avoid 'em, but he can rip them to shreds easily enough. He- he’s immune to the disease. Don’t ask how we figured that one out. Look, I can't just abandon him there!"

"Fair enough." Stealth did seem to be fairly effective, and if we headed straight for the sewer entrance we wouldn’t be Outside too long. If I was honest with myself, leaving now appealed to the bloodthirsty side of me. And the rational part added that it would be a good way to stop thinking. I didn't lose control with Mission out there. Well... I almost did, but I stopped myself. And surely going after Mission's friend is better than sitting here, arguing inside my own frelling head about whether I should rescue Bastila, sell the serum, or why I can speak Mandalorian.

"I know!" Mission said brightly, unclipping something from her belt. "I've got a spare stealth belt. Ever used one?" She handed it to me, and I climbed to my feet.

I felt my mouth drop open. “You have two?” I looked down at the device, and a blind sort of recognition dawned. Yes. Yes I have used these before. But stealth belts weren’t common, I knew that much. Nor were they particularly useful… except in the Undercity of Taris, it seemed.

“Good thinking,” I said at last. “Should be easy enough to avoid the rakghouls. Let's go, then."

She beamed at me, and we strode towards the exit. I heard Carth shouting weakly in protest behind us, but did not turn.

xXx

We slowly and silently crept through the deserted landscape, Mission leading the way towards the sewer entrance. I could barely make her out in the low visibility, and my opinion of stealth fold technology rose a notch.

It was easier to avoid the rakghouls like this, and I surprised myself by making as little noise as Mission as we snuck along. I must have grown up on the streets; I'm used to sneaking around where I'm not allowed.

Mission walked up to an open entrance in the wall, and waited for me there.

"This is the entrance we normally use," she whispered. "It comes out into a room, and I always lock the door behind me so it's safe."

"Did you lock it last time?" It was currently wide open. And, after all, she'd been pretty panicked when she'd run from her captors.

"Uh, no." She sounded sheepish. I wondered briefly if Twi’lek's could blush.

"Let me go first," I said softly, pulling a blaster from my belt.

The hole led into a small chute, and I gingerly held onto the sides to stop myself from slipping. I saw the room below; dark, dingy, but empty. I jumped the short distance down, and stood facing the exit with my blaster raised as Mission joined me.

I wrinkled my nose as my olfactory senses submerged in a stink of musty decay and rotting sewerage. "Ever get used to the smell down here?"

"Nope," she responded in the darkness. There was absolutely no light down here; I activated a light rod and passed it to Mission.

"I didn't think it could be worse than the Outside. Guess I was wrong."

She giggled softly.

We moved out, myself taking the lead as Mission gave directions. I didn’t bother with the datapad map – the sewers were full of uncharted areas, and Mission was an infinitely better guide.

"So," Mission whispered as we walked down a dark corridor. She was clutching the light rod in one hand and it threw up shadows along the paper thin walls. I wondered what they were made of; it certainly wasn’t plasteel. "Are you gonna tell me who you guys are? Or do I have to guess?"

Stars, I was hoping she'd forget. "Guess away, kid." I made sure to stress the last word. Let's take a leaf out of Onasi's databook, and see if this works.

"Hey, I ain't no kid!” she squawked indignantly. “Why does everyone keep calling me that?”

I grinned to myself. That's one point to Carth, I guess. "Well, you're pretty young to be on the streets by yourself, you know," I said mildly.

"I'm not that young! Far out, I've been looking out for myself for years!" she grumped, but my words had the desired effect - Mission wilted into a sulky silence, and the subject was happily dropped.

I slowed as we neared the end of the corridor, listening intently for any sounds. I could hear some grunts far in the distance, but nothing close by.

"Which direction from here?" I whispered.

"Into the big chamber up ahead, then the first door on the right. That leads down another corridor, and we were at the end of it when we got ambushed.”

I nodded and took a few steps forward. The chamber looked empty as we entered it, and my eyes searched the corners. One was too dark to make anything out.

The rakghouls liked to stay outside – but Mission had left the door open when she’d escaped. I felt a sense of premonition stab in my belly, and once more let my gut instinct take over.

"Wait here," I hissed, and took a few quiet steps into the room. With the light source behind me, it took a few long seconds for my vision to adjust. This part of the sewers was obviously no longer in production otherwise we’d be wading through excrement or something equally unpleasant, but unknown rubble from previous times still littered the area. My eyes landed on the different shadows around the chamber, and one didn’t look benign.

I heard a vague snuffling, and froze.

There's something there, alright. Could be asleep, could be waiting. I holstered the blaster on my belt, and slowly drew my vibrosword out. As I gingerly moved closer, the shadows transformed into a sleeping rakghoul. It must have followed someone in here. Best to kill it silently, if possible. I took another step, raised my blade with both hands, and then threw it at the slumbering body.

A cut-off wheeze. I smiled as I retrieved the weapon.

"Come on," I whispered to Mission.

We headed down the next corridor, alert for noise and movement. It was eerily empty, but I could still hear the grunts up ahead.

"That doesn't sound like rakghouls," I observed.

"No, it's the Gamorreans," Mission told me.

I nodded to myself. "How many were there?"

"Four, I think. I didn't really have time to count y'know," she replied tartly.

Four. I had a vague recollection of Gamorreans; semi-intelligent beasts that could speak and trade on a fairly basic level. Not something Jen would have encountered. "How were they armed?"

"Vibro-axes," she whispered.

Damn. Oh well, here's hoping we see them some distance away.

We reached the end of the corridor which tapered off into two closed plimsteel doors. I heard grunts coming from the left, and tensed. It's times like these I'm really glad I'm a thief. I smirked, grabbing a 'frag grenade from my pack.

"Ready?" I whispered softly. "I'm going to open the door and throw a grenade. After the blast, I'll charge in with my blade. Back me up with a blaster."

"Yep." Mission sounded like she was struggling to keep her confidence intact.

My shoulders knotted, and I forced myself to stay calm. Use the Force. No, I couldn't lose control in front of Mission. With a deep breath, I primed the grenade, and switched open the door. I mentally counted four hog-like faces as I lobbed the grenade in the centre of the room, before slamming my hand back against the controls.

The door slid shut. Snorts of surprised alarm echoed beyond the thin plimsteel just as the grenade detonated with a thundering cacophony.

The sound dug painfully into my eardrums. I winced, and fought against the desire to press my hands against the sides of my head. Listen, imbecile. What can you hear? A chorus of pained squeals, barely audible over the ringing in my ears. Now. Strike now!

I opened the door and charged.

Three Gamorreans lay on the ground, stunned, and I left them to Mission as I faced the last one. He growled, leaping forwards with a vibro-ax hefted in his grasp. My hand raised in reflex as static pricked the hairs on my arms. No. No! I will not use the Force!

With a wrench of self-control, I ducked and rolled as the Gamorrean’s axe lunged at me. Ending in a crouch at his side, my vibrosword struck out to the back of his leg, hacking deep into his calf.

He screamed as he fell forward. With a grunt, I pulled the blade upright before plunging it into his ill-armoured back.

His screams stopped.

I jerked back to the doorway. Mission was hovering there, three corpses at her feet. She was panting; her face pale and drawn, and her blaster shaking in her grasp.

The bodies at her feet all showed signs of frag damage – torn chunks of flesh that left a bloodied mess on the floor. The face of one had been ripped viciously open. Mission glanced up at me, shock evident in her eyes. She let out a small whimpering noise.

She’s not used to brawls at all, I realized. This might even be her first kill.

A loud roar from a neighboring room made us both jump. It came from beyond a closed door deeper in the room.

"That's Big Z,” Mission whispered. Her expression cleared a little, and I could see the hope bloom. She gave me a tremulous smile.

“Let’s get him then,” I said, motioning towards the door. She rushed past me, and began fiddling with the lock.

I felt the grin grow on my face. Something eased in my chest. I wasn't sure if it was hope, or relief, or just the sensation of a job well done.

Finally, I whispered to myself. Finally, I've done something right.

xXx

Chapter Text

Rescue

- Zaalbar -

The metal clawed into my fur. Resolutely, I ignored the pain and tried once more to yank the thick chains apart. They would not yield, no matter how I struggled.

I will not be a slave; not if I have to fight until my last breath! Slavers deserved to die, all of them. Capturing those less fortunate and using them like dumb animals. I’d fight against these rabid kinrath with all of my will; I’d done so before. But that brought up painful memories.

No, thinking about what cannot now be changed is fruitless. I must be strong; I must escape. Who else will look out for Mission, if not me? I continued straining at the chains around my wrists. If ever I needed your skills, my rambunctious young friend, it is right now.

She was the only one who accepted me for what I was; the only one who looked past the appearance of a towering off-worlder that could not speak Basic. Such a bright, mischievous cub. Who else would keep her from the trouble she always sailed head-first into? Zaerdra would endeavour to, yet her efforts did naught but spur Mission on. Just tell me that she is safe; that she found a way to escape.

I gritted my teeth, and pushed such sentimental thoughts aside. Not the time to reflect upon such matters. I must find a way to break free first. The room was small, and smelt of rotting corpses. My feet could just reach the door when I kicked with all my might; I'd tried again and again, but the door held firm. Although, with my hands tightly shackled, breaking the door would do little more than appease my temper.

Hunger gnawed at my insides, and I realized that soon the Gamorreans would be back to sedate and then transport me. I shall not let them!

And yet already I heard the grunts of my captors - they were returning. It sounded like less of them this time. I did not understand their language, and was glad of it.

They stayed outside of my prison, snorting at each other for some time. Desperation creeped insidiously into my furious resolve; I could feel myself turning despondent. No matter how hard I tried, I could not even bend the thick metal clamped around my wrists.

A rumbling blast from outside hammered at my ears; caught unawares, I staggered backward and crashed against the side of my cell. The walls were vibrating with aftershocks. What was that? I could hear pained squeals from the Gamorreans. They are under attack? A confused howl ripped itself from my lungs.

Deadly silence followed in its wake. I lurched off the wall and kept my eyes trained on the closed door – whatever had happened might still be to my detriment. I could no longer hear the Gamorreans.

A minute later the door swung open. Stunned relief flooded through me as Mission's happy face peeked into the room. Her eyes lit up as she spotted me.

"(Mission!)" I cried in utter shock. She is alive! I am free!

"Big Z!" She grinned happily and bounded inside, jumping up to hug me. Clumsily, I tried not to fall over. I was still not used to her effusive displays of affection. She is safe! And so was I.

"(Mission)," I complained, as she continued clutching at me tightly. "(My hands are bound. But you are a sight for sore eyes, as the Tarisians say)."

"You didn't think I'd forget about you – Mission and Zaalbar, together forever!" she replied emotionally. Her big blue eyes were blinking at me. She stepped backward and grabbed my paws, fiddling with the restraints. "Let me get those for you, Big Z. Phoaw, you smell!"

It was then that I noticed a Human female had followed her in.

"(Who's that with you?)" I asked warily, eyeing over the newcomer. I did not like Humans in general, and this one in particular raised the hackles on my neck. She was poorly dressed, but by stance alone I could tell she knew how to use the vibrosword she wielded. I wondered just how my young friend had managed to acquire her aid.

The stranger snapped her head up to look at me full on. “My name is Jen Sahara,” she answered.

Surprise swamped me and I did not take my eyes from the Human. "(You understand the language of my people? That is rare among your species; I am impressed)," I answered slowly. I had not met anyone on Taris who did; it had taken Mission months of dedicated practice to understand me on a basic level.

"Whoa!" Mission shot this Jen Sahara a speculative glance. "First Mandalorian and now Shyriiwook? You sure did learn a lot of weird languages!"

"(Weird?)" I grumbled.

Mission finished playing with the handcuffs, and they opened with a click. I rubbed my wrists thankfully.

"Well, y'know what I mean Big Z!"

"We should probably get out of here," the Human said, glancing back to the exit furtively. "There's still rakghouls crawling around."

"(I owe you a debt, Jen Sahara)," I said solemnly. "(You and Mission together have saved me from a life of servitude and slavery)."

"I didn't really do much," Mission chimed in. "I mean, I'd never have got this far without Jen."

"It's nothing; we made a deal," Jen said flatly.

"(A deal?)" I asked. A feeling of trepidation slowly uncurled in my stomach. Just what had Mission agreed to?

"Yeah, Jen needs my help to break into the Vulkar base," Mission added.

Alarm tensed my nerves; I felt my muscles bunching up in anger. "(No, Mission! We cannot go there, it's too dangerous!)" I demanded. Suddenly, I did not like the Human so much.

"I have to, Big Z, I promised! And besides, she rescued you!" Stubborn indignation was something Mission did all too well.

"I only need access to the entrance, Zaalbar,” Jen added. “Mission won’t accompany me inside."

"Hey, I'm quick and plenty smart! I can help!" Mission protested.

Jen raised a hand to quell Mission’s impassioned plea. "I believe you Mission, but I don't wish Gadon for an enemy."

"Gadon? What's he got to do with this?" Mission demanded, folding her arms stubbornly.

The Human shrugged at her. "I talked to him, like you suggested. He also warned me not to let you inside the base if I cared for my life."

"He threatened you?" Mission gasped. Her eyes widened, although I wondered why Mission was so surprised. Gadon might not be as... enthusiastic as Zaerdra, but he had always tried to look out for the young Twi’lek. With all of us struggling to keep Mission from danger, it is a wonder how she always manages to elude safety. One day, I was going to lock her in one of those Upper City apartments and throw away the key.

It was unfortunate she knew how to pick locks.

"You could call it that." Jen was grinning impishly at Mission. Humans are odd, I reminded myself. Why would she find a life threat amusing?

"Gadon's not running my life for me. I do what I want!" Mission declared hotly.

I groaned. Trying to talk reason to Mission was like taming a kinrath: dangerous and ultimately a waste of time. But I had to prevail. "(Mission, please, be sensible. I will help Jen inside the base, in return for her rescue)."

Jen looked at me in surprise. "Thank you, Zaalbar. We’d appreciate that."

"Oh, so you're going to take him along, and not me?" My young charge was getting angry. And stubborn. I would have a fight on my hands to talk her out of this.

"Mission, I do not want the Beks for enemies," Jen said wearily. "But we will need a lookout at the base entrance."

Mission sulked.

It's a compromise, but I do not have to like it.

"Please, Mission," Jen said softly.

"Fine," she muttered. "But only because Big Z would never let me hear the end of it!"

The Human smiled warmly at Mission. "Alright, let's head back."

xXx

The journey to the outcast village was fairly uneventful. We ran into a few solitary rakghouls that were killed by Jen's blasters before they came close. I was beginning to respect the fighting abilities of the Human; she was tough and capable. She also made sure no harm came to Mission during the rescue attempt. I would do my best to help her in whatever foolhardy plan she had inside the Vulkar base.

The villagers let us through the gates and I noticed they acted wary of Jen. Mission had told me Jen's Human friend was hurt; healing inside the camp. I followed the females to the centre of the dark courtyard.

"You're back. I'm surprised you're not both dead," a male voice directed at Jen and Mission. I saw an injured Human, tied up tightly to a pole. This was rather puzzling – I did not realize the Outcasts imprisoned people.

"No faith in me?" Jen asked. I could hear the humour in her voice.

"You should have waited until I could help!" the man responded in frustration.

"I would have asked you, but you seemed a little tied up."

Mission burst out laughing. He is tied up. What is so funny?

"Ha ha," the Human male answered, but he did not sound amused. "Care to get me out of this mess?"

“I dunno, Onasi. I kinda like you better this way.” The merriment was obvious in the female's eyes, as obvious as the growing irritation in the male's. Finally, Jen Sahara threw her hands up in capitulation.

“Okay, okay!” she said, her voice still shaking with suppressed mirth as she started untying the ropes. “At least you sound a lot better, at any rate.”

"Hey! You can't do that!" A female villager ran up to us. Jen whirled around to face the stranger, and the interloper took a few steps back hurriedly.

"Just watch me," Jen said menacingly. I could see rage on her face, and I tensed in wariness. Something about this Human was a little... off. Even Mission looked alarmed.

"I – well, I guess we can tell he doesn't have the rakghoul disease anymore," the healer stuttered, backing away.

"You have the social skills of a rancor," the tied up Human muttered. I saw amusement chase away the anger on Jen's face.

"Oh?" she responded, smiling mischievously. She gets the same contrary look as Mission. "You'd prefer me to leave you here?"

"No!"

Jen grinned, and finished untying the man. "Zaalbar, this is Carth." He nodded at me, and I returned the greeting. "Zaalbar's offered to help us break into the Vulkar base."

I grunted in confirmation. I may not trust her, but I owe her that much.

The man looked surprised. "Uh, that’s great. Thanks, we could do with the extra help."

"What do you guys want in there, anyway?" Mission piped up.

"Gadon's asked us to do something for him," Jen told her. I noticed the man named Carth frown at Jen. "What?" she snapped at him. "They're helping us, they deserve to know something."

"Lighten up, would ya Carth?" Mission said. "Jen’s refused to tell me anything at all, other than you’re a pilot."

"What?" Carth spluttered. He was still leaning against the pole, flexing an injured arm. It looked painful.

Jen groaned. "Thanks Mission."

"Oh. Oops." Mission giggled sheepishly.

The male Human was frowning at Jen again. "I can't believe you, woman!"

"Right. I'm getting out of here," Jen stated baldly. "We can't go back to the Upper City with you in that state, Onasi, the Sith will get suspicious." I wondered briefly who Onasi was. Jen was still speaking, in a hurried monotone as if she wanted to get her piece out before anyone interrupted. "I think we should camp down here tonight, and hit the Vulkar base tomorrow if you're up to it. Zaalbar, do me a favour and make sure Carth doesn't leave? He really needs to rest and recuperate."

"Hey!” Carth objected, his brows lowering. “You’re not ordering me about, sister!"

Jen ignored his protests, facing me as she spoke. "He's hurt and grumpy. The last thing he needs is to be moving about."

I eyed the injuries I could see. Most had been bandaged, but judging by the way Carth was balanced against the wooden pole, he looked to be in a lot of pain. He was favouring his left side, and could not stand up straight. Kolto had some instantaneous effect, but injuries as severe as his would need at least a night’s rest to heal considerably. Jen Sahara speaks sense.

"(I will do as you ask, Jen Sahara)."

Carth turned to look at me, frowning. “What did you just say?”

Mission started laughing again. "He said that if you even think about moving, he’s gonna wallop ya one! And Big Z always says what he means, so you'd better get comfortable for the night, Carth!"

"(Mission, you are making my words sound stronger than they are)," I complained.

"(It's the only way he'll listen)," Mission responded in Ryl.

"I'll be back later," Jen muttered, and dashed off.

"Where are you going now, you reckless woman?" Carth called after her, and made to follow. I walked in front of him and barred the way. He scowled at me.

"(It is for your own health, Human)," I tried to explain.

"If I wasn't so hurt, I'd take you on, Wookiee," he muttered at me. It was a token protest, I felt, for the Human looked irritated rather than genuinely angry.

Mission guffawed in disbelief. "I'll go after her,” she said brightly. "See you guys later!"

"(Mission!)" I lamented loudly. She had already run ten paces. "(Get back here!)"

She flashed me an impish grin. "No, you promised to look after Carth! I won't be long!" With that, my roguish young friend turned tail and ran after Jen.

I howled in frustration.

"Yeah," Carth commented next to me. "I know exactly how you feel."

xXx

Chapter Text

The Vulkars’ guard

- Jen Sahara -

Depression weighed down on my soul as I gulped another swig of Tarisian ale. Mission had disappeared into the pazaak room beyond, and I'd leapt at the opportunity to finally imbibe some much-needed alcohol. I'd like to see you try and stop me boozing now, Flyboy. Unfortunately, rather than relaxing my tense nerves, the alcohol seemed to be sinking me into introspection – what I'd been avoiding ever since I woke up with a splitting headache and multiple personalities.

I was almost convinced that neither Jen nor Evil Bitch were really me. But the detail with which I could recall studying - the days spent poring over electronic databases and archives - convinced me that Jen must be real, somehow. I could list specifics about the founding of the Republic, or posit a theory regarding the true origins of Coruscant’s first colonists. Anything that hadn’t happened in, oh, the last millennia or two. I can see my father's face so clearly. He scares me; he protects me. Not my father... hers.

Evil Bitch's identity, in contrast, was more just a mass of seething emotions; rage, a lust for power, hatred, and at times, an undercurrent of grief so immense I could barely fathom it. The feelings were so vibrant and overpowering that they must belong to me. Or to someone.

If a stranger asked me to describe myself, I'd say I was confident, cheeky at times; quick to anger, but quick to forgive. I wanted to understand people and their motivations, and the foreign intrigued me. Perhaps I had an inclination to be reckless and take chances, but overall, I felt like my heart was in the right place. That description is about as far off Jen or Evil Bitch as possible.

 I sighed morosely, and took another swallow. My glance caught on the mirror behind the bar, and I latched onto my own reflection. It didn't look familiar. Curly dark hair, cropped short. Wide-set green eyes, tilted nose, plainish face. A fairly normal looking female Human, really. Was that face really mine?

I downed the remainder of the glass, and ordered another. A hopeful Twi’lek tried flirting with me, but disappeared after I threatened to tie him to the ceiling fan by his headtails. I just want to be with myself. Whoever that is.

I continued drinking, and my thoughts edged into wooziness. I wonder who this face belongs to... doesn't look freaky enough to be Evil Bitch. I giggled. I bet she's really ugly.

I finished the next glass, and rested my head on the damp bar. My eyelids drooped closed, but I was still dwelling on my appearance. I've never been vain; I've never obsessed over my looks. Have I? A comforting sense of tiredness conquered my wayward thoughts, and I let them slide away into oblivion.

…

I could smell the fritla blossoms as I knelt next to the river. I love spring. Everything comes back to life. The afternoon was mine to do with as I wished; I had completed all of Father's chores, and he hadn't wanted me at home with the Minister around. So here I sat, at my usual spot, next to the gentle trickling of water. Even if it was a man-made canal, I still loved it.

My reflection smiled shyly back at me as I leaned over the bank. Wavy dark hair framing hazel eyes. I wish I didn't have freckles. I wish I was pretty. Although, Father told me to be glad I was plain, for beautiful girls attract the attention of troublesome boys. And I certainly didn't want that.

"Jen!" A masculine voice called out, irritated. I jumped to my feet, a little fearful. Better run, Father wants me.

…

The cold stars in the distance winked at me as I stared through the ship’s space-strengthened transparisteel. Almost back in known world. We'll build a better galaxy. A stronger one, that will withstand any threat. Amazing how the anger hadn’t left me. If anything, it had strengthened. They never taught us that, no; they wanted to control us. Didn't want us to realize the sheer power in embracing one's emotions.

I caught a glint of my own face on the window, and I stared at it absently. A white flaky complexion surrounded by greasy lank hair. Two eyes as black as space. Good thing I never cared for how I looked. I grinned and an evil rictus reflected back at me. And it always helps if you appear intimidating. With that thought, I reached for the steel mask that provided an even better front than my corrupted features.

…

I searched the edges of the cracked mirror. Gotta be a safe in here somewhere. My reflection frowned back in concentration as I ran my fingers behind it. I grinned as I felt the catch. Easy target, easy credits.

I paused, and stared into my own eyes before lifting the mirror. I don't look too bad. I wonder if he'll ever see me differently? I'd never particularly cared how I looked; dark curly hair, green eyes, olive skin; the fact that I was healthy and had all four limbs was enough to keep me happy. But lately... I scowled at myself. Great time for vanity, in the middle of a heist. Stupid, get back to work! I clamped down my thoughts, and started dismantling the safe.

…

"Jen? Hey Jen!" A young voice cracked through my swirling dreams. "Wake up! Gee, never took you for a drinker!"

My cheek was glued to something. As I slowly prised open a sticky eye, I saw a blue grinning face tilted to one side. Oh. My face is stuck on the bar. I groaned as I slowly raised my head.

"Ugh," I moaned.

Mission laughed. "Wow, you musta’ bin busy while I was pulling in the credits! Heh, I bet your grumpy friend isn't going to be too happy with you."

Reality sank slowly into consciousness. "He doesn't need to know," I mumbled. "I need some sleep."

"We should head back to the others," Mission agreed. "But can you walk? You're as drunk as a spacer on lockdown!"

Well, I am from space. And this planet is locked down. "I can walk, just watch me," I grumped determinedly, sliding to my feet. I squeezed my eyes shut as dizziness set in, and heard a giggle from the teenage Twi’lek.

"Laugh at me, would you?" I murmured. "Bet I could drink you under the table."

She sniggered loudly. "Says you now, when you're already sloshed."

"Mmmm," I replied, with my eyes still firmly shut. "Lead on."

"We'll go a different way, though," she said brightly. "I don't wanna run into any Vulkars, not with you in such a state." She giggled again. I opened my eyes to shoot her a filthy glare, but followed her in silence.

As we wandered through the grimy corridors of the Lower City, my head began to clear. I hazily recalled the dreams I'd had, and it brought on another case of contemplation. I look most like the street kid. My skin's not as tanned, but then, I've been indoors. I’m also a lot older. That'd make sense though, my vision of both Jen and Street Kid seemed to be when they were young teenagers. It was a lot harder to tell with Evil Bitch, whose dreams of power and grandeur seemed so far-fetched and delusional they were almost amusing. If they weren't so violent, at any rate.

I sighed to myself, and shadowed Mission around the next bend. That's it, then, isn't it? I must be Street Kid. Right?

Theories swirled hazily through my head. I still don't know why I have three identities, other than it has something to do with Bastila. I seemed to know a little of the Force; perhaps I'd fought Evil Bitch. Doesn't explain Jen, though. Maybe I'd been a Jedi apprentice who'd got dragged into a duel, and somehow Evil Bitch's memories, or soul, got trapped inside my own. Bastila… or someone… must have done something. Something with the Force. Perhaps Jen had also been involved. Maybe she'd been caught in the middle of a Jedi duel.

This is getting me nowhere.

Bastila would have the answers, but did I really want to hear them? The bond had not yet returned, but somehow I was certain it would.

Should I really continue with this rescue… should I really let her anywhere near me?

And yet… if I didn’t find out the truth, would I ever learn how to safely navigate the minefield that was my head?

With a sigh of drunken irritation, I quelled my thoughts and silently followed Mission back into the depths of Taris.

xXx

I woke up the next morning, groggy and nauseous. It took a moment to re-orient myself; I vaguely remembered stumbling after Mission into the outcast village. Our makeshift camp was really just shelter under a rat-infested building, but it was enough for me to sleep. Thus far, I seemed to find it easy to sleep just about anywhere.

As I crawled to my feet, I noticed the others eating some sort of stew by the entrance. I wondered briefly where the food had come from; Onasi must have sweet-talked some of the villagers. I don’t see many supplies around here. And the only animals are vermin. I shrugged when I realized that might very well be a viable food source. If it wasn’t killing the outcasts with food poisoning, then I should be alright.

Somehow, I had the feeling Jen Sahara would be feeling substantially more squeamish.

Mission saw me first as I slowly approached the group.

"Bet you're feeling awful today!" Mission exclaimed brightly, grinning. Carth shot me a small, disappointed frown before turning away, and the Wookiee grunted in acknowledgement.

"Mm, I've been better," I said noncommittally, ignoring the thumping in my head.

"Want some?" the Twi’lek offered. My stomach rumbled loudly, and I eagerly took a portion. Chunks of unidentifiable brown cubes floated into an equally brown sauce. Well, it certainly matches the Undercity. I slowly ate a spoonful; it was warm, filling, and about as bland as the Upper City cantina fare. So far, my opinion of Tarisian cuisine was decidedly average.

Carth was still injured, and by mutual consent we decided to wait another day before infiltrating the Vulkar base. Mutual, all apart from Flyboy himself, who wanted to get it over and done with. We have six days before the swoop race; five if we get the accelerator tomorrow. To my surprise, Carth didn't argue too loudly. In fact, he seemed to be ignoring me. I saved his life, and he's pissy with me?

I spent the day hanging around the Lower City. Mission tried to cajole me into a game of pazaak, and by the look on her face I surmised someone had told her about my awful last performance. Thank you, Flyboy. I was vaguely aware that we were driving each other crazy. It's a good thing Mission and Zaalbar are here to diffuse the tension, even if not for long. I expected we'd part company after the Vulkar base raid.

I had a quick trip back to the apartment, picking up the few grenades I'd left behind. Hopefully I wouldn't be back; all going according to plan we'd acquire the accelerator, rescue Bastila, and then I'd be off. I don't want to be around her. Just fulfil my deal with Onasi, and then disappear. I wondered if it would be that easy. I quenched the traitorous voice that pointed out I'd already done enough by saving his life.

We were all kitted up and ready to go the next day; even Zaalbar emerged with a vibrosword strapped to his back. Mission had disappeared briefly on a shopping expedition, whether she actually paid credits for her equipment I wasn’t sure. Regardless, she’d come back with a couple of bio-scanners and lowlight sonic visors for us all, excluding Zaalbar whose night vision, it turned out, was as incredible as the rest of his species.

Bio-scanners and sonic visors. Stars, I realized ruefully, we were terribly equipped last time.

I’d dallied with the idea of delaying matters one more day – we had the time to spare, and Carth was still in pain despite his protestations to the contrary. Somehow, I doubted he'd listen to reason. Besides, I want to finish this as much as he does.

Heading to the Outside, we kept Mission between us as she scouted on the ‘scanner, her other hand grasping the sole light-rod we’d need in the sewers. Even sonic lowlight visors wouldn’t help in the absence of all light, but the faint glow from just one rod would be enough for technology to grant us full vision.

There were two small groups of rakghouls it was difficult to avoid; I stuck with my blaster, while Zaalbar charged in and dispatched them. He’d assured us that Wookiees could not get the rakghoul disease, and I was glad he didn’t have to prove it, as we made swift progress towards the sewers. After Onasi’s close brush with death, I was particularly appreciative of the extra muscle. Wookiees were tough.

The decomposing, fetid stench of the sewers swamped me as we entered, and I struggled not to gag. Our light-rods illuminated a similar expression on Carth’s face; we shared a silent look of disgust at the smell, and then followed Zaalbar into the bowels of the Undercity.

"So guys," Mission whispered as we journeyed through a long, dank corridor. The light-rod threw up shadows along the walls; I could see what looked like green slime oozing down one side. "What are we doing inside in the Vulkar base?"

"(You are not doing anything inside the Vulkar base, Mission)," Zaalbar growled, prompting a sulky pout from the Twi’lek.

They deserve to know, no matter what Onasi thinks. "Gadon's asked us to retrieve or destroy a prototype accelerator," I told her, my eyes searching the sewers for any hint of danger. I sensed Carth stiffen in annoyance next to me.

"Really?" Mission squeaked. "I thought he was going to send some Beks after it!"

"I daresay we're more dispensable," Carth said. His voice was very dry.

"(That is a dangerous task),” Zaalbar commented. “(Gadon is doing something for you in return?)"

"Yes he is," I confirmed. "But I shall say no more, in fear of Flyboy's blasters."

“Jen,” Carth said sharply. “Do you- are you answering the Wookiee? There’s no way you can understand those howls-"

“(Shyriiwook is as much a language as your Galactic Basic!)” Zaalbar growled in annoyance. “(What is it with Humans and their self-absorption?)”

Carth glanced back at Zaalbar, chagrined as he realized the noise was directed at him. “Er, sorry Zaalbar. I didn’t mean to offend- it’s just that, Jen? Can you really understand him?”

“Gee, Carth, don’t be such a dumb nerf-herder,” Mission cut in. “I can understand Shyriiwook.”

In the dim light of glow-sticks, I was sure I could see the faint red of embarrassment flush on his neck. I grinned, refused to answer, and walked on.

We journeyed further into the sewers without incident, skirting to the east of the rooms Zaalbar had been kept captive in. He looked that way numerous times, and I wondered if it was nervousness, or a desire for vengeance should any Gamorrean slavers make an appearance. As long as there weren't too many, I was fairly confident we could handle them. The four of us make a great team.

Eventually we reached the forcefield Mission had told us about. It glowed a faint, shimmering blue, and halted access to a solitary tunnel. A terminal was bolted on the wall, looking decidedly out of place.

Mission skipped ahead, retrieving a datapad out of her utility belt. By the time I’d walked closer, she was already running commands through the system with practised ease. Either she was the fastest splicer on Taris, or she’d somehow gained access through another method.

Regardless, the Twi’lek obviously knew what she was doing with computers. A minute later, a slithering hiss sounded as the azure forcefield deactivated.

“Easy as kassi-loaf,” Mission chortled. “I’ve been wanting to get past here for ages. Lucky I lifted those codes when I did.”

She’s only just acquired the deactivation sequence, I realized. How coincidental is that? I shivered, and felt a familiar faintness creep in around the edges of my sanity.

…

A robed Zabrak woman was staring at me intently through intelligent turquoise eyes. "The Force is the energy of all living things, padawan. It surrounds us, it binds us. It is life in its purest form," she said. Her voice was quiet, yet strangely compelling. "And it works through us all, Jedi and non-Jedi alike. In the end, there is no such thing as coincidence."

…

Something nudged me and I gasped. A sharp pain stabbed deep into my head from where I’d banged it on the ‘Spire, before fading into a dull throb.

“Jen, are you okay?” Carth asked in a low voice. I realized that Mission and Zaalbar were some steps ahead, looking back at us in confusion.

“I’m okay,” I muttered. “Just my head playing up.”

He was frowning at me, his eyes dark with concern, when a roar in the distance grabbed everyone's attention. I noticed warily that the walls shook slightly with the vibration.

"What in the blazes was that?" Carth asked. He’d raised his blaster, pointing it down the shadowed corridor that was now accessible. He was standing in an alert, military stance, feet apart and hands steadily aiming his weapon. He certainly is the archetype Republic soldier, I thought in half-irritation, half-admiration. He made it look good.

"I dunno,” Mission replied in a quieter voice. “You hear the roars down here sometimes, but I've never known what creates it.”

"Maybe it's the Vulkar door chime," I muttered. Mission giggled.

“(It is the planet slowly dying),” Zaalbar howled mournfully. “(Of death and disease and decay).”

While I didn’t doubt that Taris was a chivhole of a planet, I didn’t think Zaalbar had the right of it. Regardless, we had to move on – and if the Vulkars came this way, then they must have a path that didn’t encounter whatever made that noise. I hoped.

Gripping tight my blaster, I followed Zaalbar into the unknown. We reached a large chamber that was eerily empty.

My boots crunched on something, and I looked down. A pile of old bones, the final resting place of some poor sod. I crouched, and moved the rubble aside. Huh, a journal of some description. The words 'Promised Land' caught my eye. That's the second one I've found. Well, I suppose I could make a loony old man happy.

There were two exits, and we veered off to another long, empty, dark corridor. The creepy atmosphere seemed to affect us all; no one had spoken a word in quite some time. I wondered if I could hear faint munching noises in the distance, or if the atmosphere was beginning to fray my focus.

The passageway emptied out into a vast cavern, half of it in lightless shadow. The room was huge, far bigger than any we had come across so far. I peered suspiciously at the far end of the catacomb - anything could be hiding there.

"There's something wrong with the ‘scanner,” Mission murmured, following Zaalbar into the room. Carth and I were some steps behind as Mission picked a path through piles of rubble that littered the area. “Again. Sheesh, there ain’t nothing that big. This ‘scanner is scrap. Who’s got the other one?”

It was an enormous room with large heaps of debris dotted throughout it. Deeper in the bowels of the place we could see the outline of a door on the left, and an open entrance on the right. But further still, there was nothing but shadow. The meagre glow from the light-rod would only travel so far, it seemed.

Movement caught my eye; I turned to see a gigantic shadow enlarge from the darkened end. I froze. Nothing could be that big. Nothing!

A deafening roar slammed into my eardrums, and the obscure shape lumbered towards us in a sudden move. Mission shrieked in panic and ran to the side of the catacomb. I caught a glimpse of her struggling with a door that did not budge. Zaalbar sprinted after her, skirting past the monster. It hadn’t seen them, and instead was heading straight for me.

It roared a second time.

I stared at the oncoming mass in a sense of bewilderment and growing determination. I will not flee! Nothing frightens me! My throat clenched. Flee!

I was yanked unceremoniously backwards as Carth grabbed my arm.

"Run!" he bellowed. That broke my trance, and the two of us turned and bolted to the only other exit. Adrenaline spiked a fire through my veins as the beast howled. An eerie, bone-shaking noise of death. I could almost feel its hot, sticky breath brushing my neck.

Carth reached the doorway, turning his head to yell something at me. Another roar, and something whisked along my back, barely making contact. I stumbled. I won't make it! Hot desperation lurched me forwards. I need to move faster!

I screamed, and jumped the last few metres.

The air around me stretched. I was suspended forever as time telescoped into nothing. A faint buzzing tickled my ears. I hadn't thought my leap would carry me to the doorway, but now it seemed like I was going to crash into the wall beyond. I raised my hands belatedly.

As my limbs collapsed against the hard surface of freedom, there was a loud crash from behind. It took a dazed second before I realized the monster had barrelled straight into the doorway. Pellets of rubble spat fierce arrows into my back as my hands steadied against the wall.

I threw a frantic look over my shoulder to behold a horrifying sight. That's a rancor, a voice muttered. The monster snarled, thrusting a giant head against a doorway too small to fit through. A chunk of torn panelling ripped free from the side of the doorway.

Sun and stars! This is too frelling close! My horrified gaze slid sideways, catching on the prone figure of Carth. Crumpled and lifeless, in a heap on the ground. Sithspit!

Another piercing howl had me jerking back to the rancor; it had retreated just far enough to drive a claw through the damaged opening. Sharp talons scrabbled at the sides, tearing through framework that wouldn't hold it back for long.

Fright vanished out of necessity. I jumped into action, grabbed Carth's unresisting arms, and yanked him fiercely down the corridor. With the heat of need adding strength to my grip, Carth didn't even feel heavy. My skin prickled as I focused on only one objective: get further down the narrow corridor where the monster cannot follow.

The illusion of safety slowly, slowly calmed my thundering heart. I stared back at the distant entrance - a gaping hole that had been a door-sized aperture moments ago. It's still far too small for a rancor to get through. And it can't follow down us down here. The rancor seemed to agree, for it retreated again, this time disappearing entirely.

Muffled grunts and growls of annoyance reverberated through the ancient stonework as the rancor moved back into its prison of a chamber. I expelled a shaky sign, and knelt down to check on Carth.

I just hope Mission made it through the other exit. Carth groaned as I searched for a pulse, mumbling something incoherently. If they didn't make it out-

The high-pierced shriek of a girl iced my heart. The familiar sound of a Wookiee howling immediately followed. Oh no. My stomach lurched. They're still there.

I stood. I ran. I was back at the damaged doorway-

The rancor roared from further back in the cavern. My mind had frozen over, but my legs were sprinting forwards. I was metres deep in the cavern when I saw them. Trapped in a corner, Zaalbar standing protectively in front of Mission.

They're going to die. This is their end.

…unless I did something.

"Come back here, you filthy beast!" I shrieked, running into the room.

I can't let them die.

If they can't take care of themselves, they deserve to die for their weakness.

I must get out of here! This is too terrifying!

I can't let them die.

"Turn around, you flea-bitten kath pup! Are you too scared to face me?" I had no idea where the words were coming from. The rancor ignored me as it advanced on the others. Zaalbar stepped back, growling, pushing Mission deep into the corner behind him.

My eyes caught on a fist-sized rock, and I scrabbled to pick it up. I hurled it with all my might, and watched numbly as the rock bounced harmlessly off the rancor's naturally armoured back. The monster lurched within swiping distance of the Wookiee.

"(Run, Mission!)" Zaalbar roared in desperation.

"I can't!" she sobbed.

Speed. Desperation laced my steps as I sprinted towards the creature, drawing my blade as I ran. Everything around me lengthened. Each step took an eternity, but the others appeared frozen in time. The rancor had a claw upwards, the start of a killing blow aimed at the Wookiee. A long, deep scream erupted viciously from my lungs as I hurled my vibrosword at the rancor's leg.

With a soundless snap, my surroundings clicked back into place. Reality shortened.

The rancor stumbled as the blade dug into its lower limb. It screeched and turned around to face me.

"Run!" I bellowed at the others.

They gathered their wits, and made a dash for the exit I had come from. The beast shook his leg in annoyance, and my vibrosword went whirling into the dark. I resisted the insane urge to go collect it.

The creature drew itself up to its full height, the top of its head brushing the ceiling of the extensive cavern. It roared in anger, huge red eyes glinting with madness. Focused solely on me. Terror tightened my limbs, as I stared in stunned shock at the monster. A small voice whispered, bring it on! I could vaguely hear screaming from the recesses of my fragmented mind. The rancor crouched back onto its massive limbs, preparing for the kill. Get out of here! I twisted on the spot, and sprinted for my life.

The beast lumbered after me, bellowing in anger. My muscles pulsed and burned. Use the Force again! I saw Mission and Zaalbar sprint into the broken doorway, and out of sight. I reached out mentally and clutched at the power I was beginning to recognize, and once more everything took on that surreal, stretched look as events were frozen in time for an instant or two.

The rancor smashed head first into the broken doorway, as the Force propelled me around the corner. The foundations of the sewers rumbled in discontent as the monster howled and tore through ancient stonework. My vision was speckled and mottled, my lungs burned as I panted, and as I stumbled into relative safety from the rancor's claws, I could feel the shaky weakness of my limbs.

Well, that was fun. I tried desperately to control my breathing as I caught up to the others. I could have killed it, no pathetic rancor frightens me! I closed my eyes as the panic slowly ebbed. I was pretty frightened, alright.

"Jen!" Mission sobbed, and clutched onto me. Adrenaline still burned fire through me, along with a simmering senseless rage, and I was quick to disentangle myself. I gave her a cursory pat on the shoulder. "I thought it got you!" she wailed.

"I think it almost did," I muttered.

"Whatever possessed you to run back in there?" Carth was awake, and speaking in a very quiet voice.

"Just my daily dose of lunacy," I quipped, somewhat breathlessly. My vision had cleared now, and normality was slowly seeping back into my bones. I sucked in a deep, calming breath of air.

"(You have saved my life again, Jen Sahara)," Zaalbar rumbled, walking over to me. "(And now Mission's, as well)."

I shrugged uncomfortably. Gratitude was not something I particularly wanted. "Forget it," I mumbled.

"(I cannot. You put your own life in jeopardy twice to save mine. There is only one way I can repay such an act: I will swear a lifedebt to you)."

I froze; my muscles clenched in surprise. A lifedebt? I felt like the rancor really had walloped me. It was still roaring furiously back in the chamber. A Wookiee slave, that could be useful. I swallowed. I don't want anyone around; just finish the quest and get out of here. I heard Mission squeak in surprise. But Zaalbar is such a nice guy. What's a lifedebt?

"A lifedebt?" Mission whispered. "Are you sure about that, Big Z?"

"A what?" Carth sounded puzzled.

"(This is an issue of great importance to me, Mission)," Zaalbar rumbled. "(Jen Sahara has twice now saved my life; once from slavery which I consider worse than death. She has also rescued you, when I could not)."

"Wow – this is major." Mission turned to face me. "Do you realize what this means?"

"I don’t need this, Zaalbar," I told him seriously.

"What are you all talking about?" Carth asked. "And Jen, I suppose you learnt Shyriiwook during your study as well?" he ended sarcastically.

Zaalbar bellowed at Carth, who glared in response.

"(Nevertheless, Jen Sahara, it is my decision. You have kept Mission from harm, and saved me twice from death)."

"But I don't know where I'm going! I don't know what my future holds." I didn't mean for my voice to sound so desperate. And Carth was looking at me strangely. I bit back a scowl.

"(Then I shall follow, and endeavour to help you)." Zaalbar took a deep breath. "(In the presence of you all I swear my lifedebt. Forever after I will be by your side, Jen Sahara. My honour and my strength are yours. May my vow be as strong as the roots of the great wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk)."

My head had bowed during Zaalbar's speech, whether out of dismay or respect I could no longer tell. The vow is done now; Zaalbar cannot take it back. I should at least accept it graciously.

"I am honoured to accept your vow, Zaalbar."

"You know this is a sacred, irreversible vow?" Mission interrupted. I nodded at her, and she continued. "I guess this means you're stuck with me, too. Wherever Big Z goes, I'm going. I almost lost him once - it's not gonna happen again."

I blinked. Well, if I get the walking rug, I may as well take the snot-nosed kid too, I thought sourly. Stars, Onasi is going to have a fit.

"Stuck with....? Just what's going on?" Carth had folded his arms, frowning at us all.

"Geez, Carth, you're so slow!" Mission rolled her eyes. "Big Z's just sworn a lifedebt to Jen. So I guess we're all one big happy family now!" She beamed.

I felt slightly nauseous.

"Family?" he echoed weakly. He blinked at me. "Lifedebt? Why?"

"While you were snoozing, Jen ran back in and saved our lives!" Mission enlightened him. "We'd have been Mr Rancor's dinner if not for her!"

Carth's mouth dropped open, and he stared in confusion at me. Heh, I think I worry him when I do the right thing. "Oh," he said quietly, his dark eyes searching mine.

I turned away. "Let's go find that Vulkar base, it can't be far. I want to find out which gang member had the bright idea of using a rancor as a guard."

And then I'm going to castrate him.

 xXx

Chapter Text

A deal

- Mission Vao -

It seemed like I'd been waiting there forever. I couldn't even hear blaster shots or screams anymore. I could go in, I thought suddenly, see if they're okay. Problem was, I'd promised to stay put. 'Sides, I liked Jen, and didn't wanna to get her in any jip.

Though it ain't like Gadon would kill her or anything. Not if I talked to him.

I was waiting outside the base, tucked in the shadows behind a crumbling sewer wall. The back entrance to the Vulkar base was totally unguarded, and our only snag had been a terminal-locked durasteel door that a novice could slice. So, after rocking my skills, the rest of the gang'd sent me away to hide like a little kid while they went and got the job done. I could feel myself pouting.

I still thought I’d be safer with them.

A Vulkar had run past me earlier, back into the sewers. I'd stayed hidden, but even if I'd been smack bang in the centre of the corridor I didn't think he'd've seen me. He'd looked like he'd peed in his pants or something. Funny thing was, he'd headed straight towards Mr Rancor.

The rancor made me think of Big Z's lifedebt. That was big. It had me excited, too, because I had a funny feeling Carth and Jen weren't gonna be sticking round on Taris forever. Carth's gotta tell us what's going on now- we're part of it! Honestly, I never thought I'd find a way off this place. Since Griff'd gone, I'd felt chained to Taris with the rest of the Lower City. I'd dream that maybe one day, when I lifted enough creds, I could buy a ticket off-world for me and Big Z.

Dreams to make me smile, but I never really knew how good my chances were.

But now.... They were off-worlders, and they were doing something important. I couldn’t help but wonder if they had something to do with the Republic escape pods, too. Jen said Carth was a pilot....

I figured since we were all on the same team now, I should be with them. I'd been out here long enough. Sure, Zaalbar would howl at me for a bit, but he'd get over it - he always did. And earlier, when they'd all disappeared into the Vulkar base, my gaze had landed on a terminal inside just before the door had closed.

I could slice into that, an' access the vid-feeds. I'll be able to find them and spot a clear path to catch up.

I grinned to myself, and took a silent step forwards. A couple of halogens shone bright on the durasteel entrance, lighting up the door against the shadows of the sewers. It was unlocked, now - all I had to do was depress the controls.

I pulled out my bio-scanner and ran a quick check. It was usually reliable through a door's thickness of durasteel, and the malfunction I'd thought from earlier was actually just a clear reading of that freakish rancor. I shivered. I'd never seen anything like that thing. Not unless I counted those horror vids Griff used to like, the ones he'd trick me into watching just to snigger at me when I screamed. I'd always thought the monsters from those dumb holo-vids were just special effects of some producer high on gree-spice or something. Now, I wondered if they'd gotten their inspiration from real-life creatures.

The scanner was beeping back at me in reassurance: No sentient life detected. Its accuracy range was well beyond the door before it started to plummet, so I bit my lip, darted forward, and slammed my hand on the door control before I lost my nerve.

The entrance to the Vulkar base was empty.

I ran forward to the terminal, hurriedly inserting a tech spike from my belt. The OS was IntelSec, an earlier variant of the IntelliSecurity system the Beks used, and I’d sliced that enough times I could do it blind-folded. Okay, so usually I bullied one of Gadon’s utility droids into helping, but even so – it was child’s play to hack into the back end, disable the holo-interface, and go straight to command input. Inserting my datapad, I ran a couple of quick batches that soon gave me master control.

First things first – schematics. With a couple of taps, I found and launched a holo-map of the base. It was smaller than I expected, with a couple of vertical shafts that rose deep into the Lower City. The bulk of the base was closer to the Undercity, though, which explained why the Beks could never place this base on their sonic mapping devices.

The Lower City was a mess of corridors, tunnels, and collapsed sinkholes. Any schematic that was near to accurate soon become less so – certain parts of Taris were just plain dangerous to exist in, and that wasn’t even counting in the gangs or the Exchange. I’d had a bit to do with the sonic mapping - me and Big Z were wizard at modifying comm gadgets to include sonic transmitters that sent data back to a mapping program. But even with all that info, we’d never been able to place the nearby Vulkar residence. Oh, the Beks knew about some of their other heavily guarded strongholds further away, but this one… it'd bugged me for months, ever since one of the Beks had come across the guarded front entrance in the centre of Lower Taris.

Our sonic tech had thrown contradictions when we'd tried to map it from a distance - there just didn't seem to be enough sheer space to house a stronghold of Vulkar scum. And that’s why I’d wondered about the sewers – if their base went deep down into the depths, it’d make sense. Tarisians shied away from the Undercity, for good reason. Looked like the Vulkars had capitalized on that real estate.

I was changing the output to the holo-cam network when a bright red error flashed across the top of the screen. A second later, a piercing siren cut through the air. I squeaked at the ominous words blinking at me.

Alarm activated by unauthorised access.

Bantha poodoo! Was that me? My fingers flew over the keyboard as I desperately hacked into the security functions.

The back of my neck felt suddenly hot. The stupid warning wasn't disappearing from the console. Unauthorised access? Far out, I'm not the one charging in with guns blazing! Wasn't that just the luck, though- the others could barge in, somehow without tripping a single alarm- I do the teensiest bit of slicing and suddenly every dumb siren in the place starts ringing-

The wailing noise cut out with a strangled whine. I blinked, tapped one more key, and the flashing red message vanished from the screen.

My breath caught in my throat. Please, let any nearby peeps think that was just a false alarm. I turned the door, listening for any sounds. Maybe there was a faint yell in the distance, but definitely nothing close by. Huffing in relief, I bent back over the screen and hooked into the vid-feeds again.

There were no sents anywhere near me, but I spotted a couple of patrol droids in nearby rooms. With a wrinkle of my nose, I shut down the access doors and locked them in. If they had security specs they might be able to slice through the doors, but it'd give me some time at least.

I had no idea where the others had gone. I'd heard blaster shots when they'd first left me, which had petered away into silence after a few minutes. Scrolling through the feeds, I spotted a maintenance room that housed a backup generator and server system by the looks. Piles of broken blasters and swoop bike parts littered the floor. On the far end, there was a workbench with a slumped Vulkar corpse laying over it. Jackpot! They went this way!

From there, it wasn't too hard to follow their trail. I was briefly side-tracked by unlocking the armoury, idly wishing I had time to explore it, and then continued to track the gang through the cams. I switched the feed to a large training room, and the cam threw up a scene of havoc to my surprised eyes.

Turrets were firing at three figures stuck between the guns and a mob of sentients. One of the three looked distinctly tall and hairy. Poodoo! They're trapped! How the Vulkars had caught them in front of the guns I didn't know, but it looked nasty.

I gotta do something. They'll die otherwise! Turrets.... I quickly switched to the gun access control.

Turrets deactivated.

 I watched the screen tensely.

Half a minute later, and they ran around the corner. A blinding flash of light exploded right in the middle of the mob running after them. Grenades. Good one, Jen!

I searched the terminal intently for any survivors, and saw only one Vulkar struggling to get back on his feet. Jen's head reappeared through the doorway. She quickly scanned the room, shot the sole remaining survivor, and then vanished.

She scares me like that. I know it's better to be safe, but sometimes Jen can act so bloodthirsty. I guessed battle rage must get to her; she was really nice otherwise.

I decided it was time to catch up with them, so quickly tied up loose ends by hemming in a couple more patrol droids, and unlocking the doors directly in Jen’s path.

With a deep breath, I checked my path once more on the vid-feed, and then darted deeper into the base. I grasped a light, but accurate, Senturi blaster, and stayed tight behind each corner before stepping out to clear it. When I ran into the maintenance room, I took a moment to quickly rifle through the corpses' pockets, slipping the loaded chits into my belt. There was no point turning down easy credits, after all.

I made it to the training room, stepping over Vulkar bodies as I passed. I wonder just how close the others were to dying. I shivered. It had looked pretty grim, from the terminal.

The thought of that incident made me realize they might still be in trouble. They might need my help. I raced down to the lower level of the Vulkar Base. Broken droids and smoke greeted me.

 Sheesh, what happened now? I walked through the clouds of smoke, scouting around for any movement. Nothing here. Where are they? I crept onward, further into Vulkar offices. Dead gang members met my eye. I heard voices, followed by a howl that was distinctly familiar. Big Z!

I dashed into the next office, and saw all three of them, standing over a pile of corpses. Carth was clutching his side, and blood was splattered gruesomely over Jen’s armour. I grinned stupidly, and ducked back behind the entrance, keeping an eye out for any unwanted arrivals.

"Crazy reckless woman," I heard Carth mutter back in the room.

"(You continue to surprise me, Jen Sahara)."

"Do you think this is it, guys?" Jen asked in a muffled voice. It sounded like she was bending over.

“That’s a swoop accelerator,” Carth confirmed, in a confident voice that said he knew what he was talking about. “Here’s hoping it’s the right one. Grab it, and let’s get out of here.”

Wow, they actually found it!

I could hear Jen grunt, before Zaalbar interrupted her. "(Let me carry it. It will not be a burden to me, Jen Sahara)."

In my spare hand, I pulled out my datapad and flicked to the base schematics. We weren’t far from the shaft to the Lower City, here, just down a hallway and through the only exit. The base was eerily quiet, and it made sense to extract quick, before Vulkar reinforcements arrived. I put the ‘pad back and retrieved my ‘scanner: still no nearby life-forms.

"It was pretty lucky how the turrets turned off like that, don't you think?" Jen was saying in a considering tone.

"Luck follows you around like fleas on a bantha,” Carth muttered. “How you manage to survive daily is beyond me.”

Far out, he's as grumpy as Big Z on a diet.

Jen laughed in response. "Lighten up, Onasi," she said mildly.

"Lighten up? You just stormed a whole room of Vulkars in a crazy rage!" He sighed. “Look, I know you're good, Jen. You have the skills of an elite commando, and your speed in battle is more than impressive. But luck, and luck only, has stopped you from dying multiple times since I've met you! It's driving me crazy."

"(Carth Onasi is right)," Zaalbar agreed. I blinked in surprise. Sheesh, she must have done something nuts for Big Z to speak up. "(You should have waited for us. I cannot protect you if you run off)."

"I've survived this long without anyone protecting me!" Jen flared. I know what she means. Though I never thought I'd see the day when Zaalbar tried to coddle her! Usually, he reserved that just for me.

"(You have said that we are on a quest together. That means we should help each other. If you run off, you endanger the whole mission)." Zaalbar paused for a minute. "(I am sorry, Jen Sahara. I should not lecture you so. But you are headstrong, and I worry you will get into danger where I cannot be of assistance)."

"I don't know what the Wookiee just said, but I'm with him," Carth cut in.

Jen laughed suddenly. I was surprised at the quick change from anger to humour. "Okay, okay, guys. You're right, and I'm wrong.”

I heard their footsteps and bit back a grin. Boy, was I going to surprise them! I laid myself flat against the cool alloy wall, holding my breath.

Carth stepped out first; I was totally unprepared for his military instincts to kick in – his arm swung out, blaster aimed precisely at my head.

“Eep,” I squeaked, staring cross-eyed at the laser barrel that was altogether too close to my head.

“Mission!” Carth cried, aghast. “Stang, do you have any idea how close I was to shooting you?”

Embarrassment chased away the fright lurking in my belly when I realized how potentially stupid sneaking up on allies in enemy territory was. I could feel my cheeks burn.

“Mission?” Jen exclaimed, stepping out next to Carth. Her eyes closed in exasperation.

“(Mission!)” Zaalbar roared, pushing past Jen to confront me. “(You should not be here!)”

Jen sighed, “Stars, if Gadon finds out you were in the Vulkar ba-”

“He won’t!” I insisted. “’Cause none of us are stupid enough to tell him, right?”

“(Mission),” Zaalbar howled mournfully. “(You promised me).”

“I know, I know, okay? It’s just- I was scared out there. And I knew I could hack into the Vulkars’ system and use the vids to find a clear path to you guys.” I put my hands on my hips in what I hoped was a confident pose, and stared all three of them in the eye, one by one. “Look, I know what I’m doing, okay? And my ‘scanner says it’s all clear to the Lower City lift. Which is that way.”

I pointed a finger smugly, and their heads all swiveled to face down the corridor. Jen turned back to shot me a stare that, I hoped, held some respect amidst the amusement.

“Okay, let’s get out of here then,” Jen murmured, taking the lead and drawing a vibrosword she must have picked up from a Vulkar corpse.

Carth made to follow her, but first glanced at me, and his expression still bordered on horrified. “Don’t- don’t ever do that again,” he said quietly. “Between you and Jen, it's surprising I haven't turned grey.”

Jen snickered. “I’m sure I can see some white hairs, old man,” she teased as Carth stepped next to her.

Carth threw her a half-hearted glare. “I need a vacation,” he muttered to himself.

I glanced up at my old buddy Big Z to see him staring solemnly at me. It had taken me years to decipher the expressions of my Wookiee friend, but I knew that one. Disappointment. I sighed.

“Come on, admit it, Onasi. You’d be bored if Mission and I weren’t around,” Jen said in a light voice, ahead of us.

“I’m sorry, Big Z,” I said quietly. “It’s the truth, though. I was scared. And I don’t do well being left behind.”

“Bored?” Carth replied in a mock-outraged voice. “Bored? Listen, sister, I get more welcome attention from a blaster rifle!”

Zaalbar sighed, and then nodded at me. He almost seemed understanding, then, and my heart lifted a little.

We’d neared the only exit of the hallway; an opening that, according to my schematics, should lead into a spacious room that housed the lifts out of here. Jen halted just before the entrance, her weapon raised and her off-hand sending a shushing motion to Carth. “I named you well, Blaster Boy,” she whispered, “Though I seriously think you need to get out more.”

With a wicked grin, she leapt into the open doorway, Carth hot on her heels with his guns raised. We heard no audible sound of battle, indicating that this part of the base was still, thankfully, unoccupied.

“I get out plenty!” I heard Carth protest feebly.

“(Those two bicker like a mated pair),” Zaalbar grumbled as we turned into the room. He gave me a quick look. “(Although, do not tell Jen Sahara I said that).”

I giggled. “No way, Big Z. Boy, do you get funny ideas sometimes.”

xXx

The trip back was uneventful. The Vulkar lift had groaned and squeaked while we ascended, and we’d all been set to fight battle when the doors opened. Zaalbar even put the swoop part down in readiness. But either the alarm had sent the Vulkars running, or they’d had some other warning. My guess was that the Vulkars had all retreated into one of their other, more fortified, strongholds.

We’d come out near Gadon’s base of operations, and as we crossed into familiar ground I felt the tenseness leave my shoulders. Carth had even put his blaster away, although he did keep his hand glued to his hip.

We were an odd bunch – a Twi’lek teenager, two Humans, and a Wookiee carrying a machine part – but no passerby gave us a second glance. It was the Lower City after all. We got all sorts down here.

"So, you guys gonna spill before we see Gadon, or what?" I demanded, as we crossed behind Javyar’s Cantina. In my head, this marked my own territory. I always felt a bit uneasy at the Vulkar end of the Lower City, but Central was home.

"We're all a team now, right?" Jen posed that to Carth, more as a demand than anything else.

He stared at her for a moment, before nodding agreement.

"Gadon's offered to sponsor us in the swoop race, in return for the accelerator," Jen said. I felt my eyes widen with wonder. Whoa!

"Swoop racing? Awesome!” I cried. “Whoa, Jen, you're a swooper?"”

"Um, I-"

"I always wanted to enter, but Zaerdra will never let me!” I gushed. “Too young, she says, but hah! I can beat nearly all the Beks on the practice track!"

Jen stopped walking, and turned to face me. "I-"

“I love swoop racing!” I burst out- even talking about it made me grin. My favourite daydream was, one day, being a famous swoop racer for the Beks. I should be out there this year. Other gangs had put forward riders younger than me. “Y’know, there never used to be an age limit until I took an interest in swooping. Zaerdra convinced Gadon to put one in place for the Beks last year just to stop me entering any of the races.”

“(She worries, Mission),” Zaalbar rumbled. “(People die from swoop racing).”

"So?" I challenged. "There's only about one death a year!" I fell silent. If only I could race! I had a natural skill for swooping, I knew that much. Gadon would happily sponsor me, if not for Zaerdra! It suddenly struck me as odd that Jen and Carth were entering the competition. And Gadon made them go to an awful lot of effort just to race. Doesn't seem like him.

"Why do you guys want to enter, anyways?" I asked.

"We want the prize," Jen said simply.

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew, a slave? You're gonna set that person free, aren't you?" Why would they want a Republic officer, anyway? I remembered Jen's slip about Carth being a pilot. Everything fell into place, and I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been. My mouth dropped.

"Whoa, you guys are with the Republic, aren't you?" I whispered in awe.

Carth was looking ahead stonily; I guess he'd reconciled himself to Jen spilling the beans, but wasn't taking any part himself.

"I guess," Jen said weakly.

"(You are making a habit of rescuing people, Jen Sahara. You have a lot of honour)."

"It's not something I want to do regularly, Zaalbar. After Bastila, I'm heading off this rock."

My head twitched up. Bastila? Is that the name of the Republic Officer? I was certain I'd heard it elsewhere. The Sith! "She's that Jedi the Sith are after!" the words burst out. Jen nodded at me. Wow! What a quest! I loved hearing stories about Jedi and Dark Jedi, although I’d never really been sure how much of their mystical power was true and how much was hearsay. Sometimes I wondered if all that mind-tricking and Force talk was just that: talk to make the Sith scarier and the Jedi more impressive.

Regardless, our future now seemed full of possibilities, and I almost didn't notice when we reached the Bek base.

Jen and Carth hurried to meet with Gadon, and I lurked behind to catch up on the news. Zaalbar had disappeared in the direction of the Beks’ kitchen, which didn't surprise me considering the ominous rumblings I'd heard from his stomach earlier.

When I strolled over to Gadon, I saw Zaerdra wielding her blade and glaring furiously at Jen.

"Sheesh, where's the fire, Zaerdra?" I called. "You look ready to kill someone."

"I am not cheating you," Gadon was saying mildly to Jen, but his expression was tense. "At least grant me the bare courtesy of finishing before you yell at me. In my own base." Gadon inclined his head towards a group of armed Beks. Alarm jangled through me. What did Jen say?

Zaerdra turned towards me, her violet eyes boring into mine angrily. "(This human has no respect. If she threatens Gadon again, I will kill her)." Her headtails were twitching with furious threats of bodily harm.

"No! She saved my life!" I burst out. Zaerdra’s glare deepened.

Jen had a look of black rage on her face, but it seemed to settle down when she glanced my way. She took a few deep breaths, and started talking in a controlled voice. "Gadon, I was under the impression I'd be using the accelerator in the race in return for obtaining it. If I use one of your standard bikes I'll have no chance of winning. I thought that was the deal."

"The deal was that I'd sponsor you in the race," Gadon told her flatly.

"So you get what you want, but I don't get anything." Jen had crossed her arms, and her tone turned low and ominously quiet. Carth tensed, his eyes pinned on Zaerdra.

"(She is asking for trouble. I am quite happy to give it to her)," Zaerdra growled at me. I saw Jen's eyes flick briefly over the Twi’lek.

"I have no use for a Republic officer," Gadon responded. "I had thought to turn her over to you, in return for what you have done for us, after the Beks win the swoop race. That was before you started threatening me." His expression was hard, unyielding. I don't think I've ever seen Gadon this angry. Well, not since Brejik turned traitor, anyways.

"Jen." I decided it was time for everyone to chill out. "Don't get so tense – we're all friends here, right? Gadon's a good man, you can trust him. And Gadon, Jen may act a little grouchy, but she's really nice – she saved both my life and Big Z's!"

Everyone turned to stare at me in surprise. "What?" I said, a little defensively.

The corner of Jen's mouth twitched, right before she let out a peal of laughter. "You're right, Mission. I'm sorry Gadon, I guess I'm not used to trusting people."

Gadon nodded at her. "Apology accepted." He said no more.

"So," Jen prompted. "Is this our deal then? If a Bek wins, we get the prize?"

Gadon stared at her hard for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before he finally seemed to relent. "Yes."

"Okay," Jen said slowly. "Then why sponsor me at all?"

"For your sake, rather than mine," Gadon explained. "I don't trust Brejik to give his prize away quietly. The Beks are only there to win the race, and hence the loyalty of the undecided smaller gangs. If Brejik pulls something with your Republic officer – and I doubt he'll give up such a prize easily – then it's up to you whether you act on the scene. The Beks will not help. We do not wish to start a bloodbath."

Jen had crossed her arms and pursed her lips, obviously deep in thought. "Fair enough. If all four of us are there then we could be ready for any stunts."

A look of unease crossed Gadon's lined face. "Only riders and mechanics are allowed on the swoop track. I'm afraid you'll be on your own."

Jen's eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh, this will be fun," she muttered.

Gadon smiled; honestly, I couldn't really see why, but at least he didn't look like he wanted to kill her or boot her out the door anymore. "I hope it will all go as planned. But I'm not fool enough to expect it. Now, you are welcome to stay at the Bek base for the next few days if you wish. But a warning - threaten anyone again and not only is the deal off, but you will be considered an intruder."

Shutters fell over Jen's face. She said nothing, but instead threw Gadon a short, sharp nod of agreement.

"(I still do not trust her)," Zaerdra muttered.

Jen turned to leave, and I pointed her towards the Bek kitchen. As we reached the doorway, Jen paused, just long enough to throw an impish grin back at Zaerdra.

"(The feeling's mutual, sweetheart!)" Jen fired the words with a cheeky wave, before slipping ahead of me into the next room. I stayed only long enough to see Zaerdra blush dark indigo in outrage, and then ran outta there before she heard me laughing. Far out! Jen knows Ryl as well?

"You sound like a gizka, your accent is so bad," I giggled as I caught up to Jen. She threw me a jaunty wink.

Over a free meal in the kitchen, the four of us decided to take up Gadon's offer and camp out at the Base for the next few days. I was pretty excited to be watching my friend in the race, but I couldn't help a traitorous feeling of envy. I could be good.

I caught Jen alone later that day in the same kitchenette.

“So, Jen, you going to do some practice runs on the swoop track?” I asked, jumping up to sit on the plasteel table that carried a dozen dirty eating receptacles. It creaked under my weight.

Jen’s face scrunched up in annoyance. “I asked around, but the track’s been shut down in preparation for the race. Guess I’m going to have to wing it.” She shot me a sidelong glance. “If only I knew how to swoop... or knew someone who did.”

And, once more, Jen stunned me into wonder. “Jen!” I hissed, swinging my legs. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

A mischievous smile curved her lips. “What do you say, Mission? You up for a prank?”

I paused, thinking it over. “I dunno, Jen. It’ll annoy the snot out of Gadon and Zaerdra – which I don’t mind, but she’s shot people for less, y’know?”

Jen snorted. “She doesn’t scare me, Mission. Besides, I wasn’t planning on telling them.”

Holding back a grin of excitement was hard. “How would this work? ‘Cause, don’t you have to be there on the track, for that Jedi woman?”

“Yes – and I want to concentrate purely on rescuing her. It makes senses to have a more seasoned rider racing.” She looked at me slyly. “I need a mechanic, you know. If you can sort that out, then we’ll switch outfits on the day.”

Exhilaration punched hard into my stomach as I started believing that we, really, could pull this off. “And Big Z, Carth? We gonna hide it from them?”

“No,” she said. “Leave them to me. I’ll make them understand I need your skills.”

The nod to my abilities made me blush slightly in pleasure. Jen really, truly, thought I was a useful member of our group. Everyone else just treated me like a wayward kid. She must had read something in my expression, for hers softened with a small smile.

“They don’t realize yet who turned the turrets off,” she murmured. “You saved our butts in there, Mission.”

“Oh. Yeah! I guess I did,” I grinned at her, and then jumped off the table, grabbing her hand impulsively in a handshake. “Before you change your mind,” I said, shaking her hand vigorously.

“Okay,” she replied, laughing, and extracted her limb. “It’s a deal.”

xXx

Chapter Text

Race day

- Jen Sahara -

The days before the swoop race passed slowly, and the sinking feeling of trepidation sat like a lead ball in my stomach. The idle time was messing with my head, and I found myself snapping irritably at everyone while I second-guessed both my objectives and my own emotions.

What I wanted desperately was to be on my way – finished with the mission and everything to do with the Republic.

The Republic… my feelings were mixed, now. Earlier, I’d been certain I detested the lumbering galactic empire as much as the cruel Sith, but these days having been forced into companionship with Carth – quintessential Republic military, if there was such a thing – had me doubting my feelings. A core part of me believed in the ideals of the Republic, the galactic conglomeration of all different cultures and species working together, doing their best to strive for peace.

A dictatorship is stronger, more efficient, and less corrupt than the Republic Senate.

But it was also crueler. And just plain wrong. The drive for collective harmony – even if it was unrealistic to believe the end-point would ever be reached – was an admirable one.

But an empire with one leader – like, say, the Sith, is more powerful against any threat. The Republic has grown weak. Look how easily the Mandalorians almost conquered the Core.

My thoughts twisted in on themselves, Street Kid versus Evil Bitch, with the occasional cower from Jen Sahara in the shadows. My thoughts jumped around, landing on topics that I couldn’t recall, dredging up facts that I couldn’t back-up. What did I know about the Mandalorian Wars? It had been a precursor to Malak’s rise to power, him and his master both – they’d led a shaky, vulnerable Republic to victory against the invaders that had come perilously close to the vanquishing the largest government in the galaxy. And then- the heroes and half their fleet viciously turned on the Republic.

My mind hurt when I tried to dwell on it, sharp pains digging into the side of my temple where I’d injured it back on the ‘Spire. So I’d flinch away, and think about something else.

Bastila. I wasn’t scared of her. I kept trying to remind myself of that, but a confrontation with the very Jedi bonded to me, and who likely had something to do with my identity crisis, left me in a state where fear and anger constantly battled for supremacy.

The bond hadn’t yet returned. For all I knew, Bastila may have already died. No. I would have felt it. And it would not have been pretty. It was a dark, confident part of me that somehow knew Force bonds weren’t so easy to wiggle out of. Which made me consider, again, whether I should just run.

But where would I go? Back to… Deralia? The very thought of Jen’s homeworld made me scoff. I need to rescue Bastila, and then I can slip away. Disappear somewhere in space. I’m self-sufficient, I’ll survive. But she might be able to help me. Explain things. Jedi were meant to be good, right, so surely I could trust her?

Definitely, she’s a Jedi! Jen thought in quiet awe before I harshly quenched it. No. It’s safer to run once she’s rescued.

But the sinking thought kept returning: Bastila is bonded to me. If she knows something about the fractures in my mind, then will she really be willing to let me just leave? My fists clenched. I will not let some trumped up Jedi brat tell me what to do. I closed my eyes. Some trumped up Jedi brat who has a very powerful control over the mental side of the Force. Why am I rescuing her again?

At least I was starting to get some sort of handle on using the Force. I'd drawn on it to increase my speed a number of times in the sewers, and could almost control it. It was the almost part that had me edging away from experimenting. I slaughtered an innocent when both my fury and the Force pummeling through my body combined.

A deadly combination.

I decided it was time to do something before my emotions transformed into a killing rage. I snuck out the back entrance of the Bek base that Mission had pointed out earlier. Both Carth and the Wookiee seemed averse to letting me venture out by myself. Fortunately, Mission was used to evading overprotective guards, and had for some reason taken a shine to me. I don't know why. But I can't help liking that little street punk myself.

I headed down to the Undercity, using a datapad holo-map that Mission had slipped me as a guide. She’d annotated a couple of her shortcuts, and they were proving to be very useful. It seemed that Mission and Zaalbar had been instrumental in the sonic mapping technology the Beks used, and her maps were second to none in regards to accuracy. Apparently, she made a little profit on the side from selling copies of them – although she complained to me that most of it went straight to Gadon. Considering the maps changed frequently due to ongoing construction in the Lower City and the odd sinkhole, the income was steady. Somehow, I felt that should Mission remain on Taris she’d end up doing just fine.

But Zaalbar was sworn to me now, as incredible as that still seemed. And Mission would follow him. The weight of their lives sat heavy on my soul when I stopped to think about it.

As I neared the dwelling in the Undercity, the villagers spotted me with wide-eyed glances of alarm, scurrying off like insects. For some reason, this increased my irritation. My objective was easy to complete – the half-sane milky-eyed old man, Rukil, who squinted at me as I approached.

"Ahh! Our saviour returns! Have you found success upon your quest for the Promised Land?"

Nice. I will be nice. "I have something of interest to you, old man." I pulled out the two data journals I'd discovered, and dropped them at his feet. Rukil gasped, scrabbling around in the dirt to pick them up. There was a moment’s silence as he peered closely at the first journal, and I turned to walk away.

"It is as I feared, then," he mumbled. "Malya is dead. But although I am saddened, there is yet hope in this discovery," he trailed off, and switched on the second datapad. I’d taken three steps by this time, shoulders tensing.

"You have found my father's journal also! It is a miracle!" His voice turned rapturous. "You are truly marked as our saviour!"

I stopped, turned and glared. "I am nobody's saviour," I growled, my voice low and harsh.

He shook his head in disbelief. "You are marked, up-worlder - even my dim old eyes can see the mantle of destiny that cloaks you. There is but one more journal left."

No. No, damn everything to the Outer Rim and back. I will not play at being a hero anymore than I have to. “I’ve got you two. Get some other champion to find the third. I am leaving and will not be coming back.” I snarled the last words and stalked away.

The rage simmered like a fire in my gut, and I could find no explanation for it. Idealistic words like destiny and saviour sat like sick in my stomach and my sleep that night was restless. I’d made my decision and I wouldn’t retract it – but thoughts of the loony old geezer and his missing third journal kept me awake all night.

xXx

The day of the swoop race dawned. All thoughts of the Undercity had cleared from my mind, which sharpened in concentration to the day's upcoming events. Finally, action to keep me engaged and focused, and away from the insidious, contradictory maelstrom of thoughts.

The wrist-comm Carth had forced upon me sat heavy on my arm. I had yet to discover exactly how Mission was planning to exchange places with the mechanic Gadon had assigned to me, but I expected she wouldn't let me down.

"(May fortune shine upon you today, Jen Sahara)," Zaalbar farewelled me as I followed the other Bek riders to the swoop track.

"Good luck," Carth said a trifle hesitantly. "I, uh, well. Good luck."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Got a speech impediment there, Flyboy?"

He shot me an unimpressed look from behind the chestnut hair that kept falling in his eyes. He needed a haircut. "No. Look, I just wanted to say - thank you. For what happened in the Undercity. I- uh, I never acknowledged what you did. I guess I got a bit too- well, annoyed. But you saved my life, Jen. Thank you."

His words came out genuine and heartfelt, even if the man stuttered uncomfortably over them. I didn't need his gratitude, though. I didn't want it. For some reason, the idea of anyone feeling indebted to me felt bitterly unwelcome.

"Forget it," I said in a cold tone.

He frowned at me. "I can't. I'd be dead, if it wasn't for you."

"Yeah, well, you saved my life first. We're even. Let me get you Bastila, and then I'll be out of your life permanently." I strode off.

"Dammit, Jen!" he cursed after me, but I continued walking.

The group of Bek riders reached the mechanic bay, and Anglu lead me to the swoop I was going to race. Anglu was the Beks’ prime swoop racer; a tiny Twi’lek whose slight frame concealed a wiry strength. She was the one chosen to ride the experimental bike.

"Gadon will not be here on the track today," she told me quietly in Basic. "He does not wish a slaughter, and his presence may cause one."

I nodded at her, and eyed over the bike.

"So, where's my mechanic?"

"Jaz should be along any minute."

"Thanks, Anglu. And good luck."

She smiled at me, and walked away. A minute later, a short figure in lime green fire-retardant synthetics with a customized matching helmet scampered up to me.

"I'm here, Jen!" the figure hissed. I turned to face Mission, and could not quite still the impish grin that crawled over my face.

"Nice helmet," I said, aware my voice had turned sardonic.

"It's the only way I could sneak in! Quick, let's duck into the workroom so you can change."

"I hope my clothes aren't that hideous colour," I muttered as I followed her.

Mission had acquired me a set of drab, grimy overalls, with a hood to shadow my face. I changed quickly, grimacing at the pungent smell of the worn clothing as I tugged it over my combat armour. Oil stains and burn marks decorated the drab material.

"I thought you were coming as my mechanic?" I asked.

"Nah, too tricky as Jaz was with some of the others. I jus' slipped a lil sedative into his caffa, and then faked a racing entry pass for one of the small gangs."

My brows shot up. I couldn't help but respect the crazy girl. She may be impulsive, but she sure can get results.

"So, where did you get this lovely pair of overalls?" I questioned, as I fastened the front.

"I just found them lying about," she answered innocently. Lying about, eh? I pulled the hood over my face, and my vision dimmed. I had a faint, dizzy sensation, almost like a half-remembered dream, before it dissipated like cigarra smoke in a stiff breeze.

"Let's go, Jen! Oooh, I can't wait!" Mission was practically hopping with excitement. I had to grin at her exuberance. Sometimes she seemed so, delightfully, young.

We headed back out to the swoops, and the minute we were within arm's reach of my competing bike, sitting on standby in the pits, Mission placed reverent hands on the chassis and started gushing over it.

"This is one of those R4 souped-up lithium speeders!" she said in awe. "Did you know, an earlier model of this raced by the Spider Furies won last year's championship?"

I blinked. No, funnily enough I did not. I knew Mission wanted to race, but I hadn't picked her for a fan. She was nodding eagerly.

"Yeah, and the Beks came second the year before on one of these – the debut of the technology! Okay, the Ravager series is considered more superior now but-"

Her effusive display halted at my upraised hand. I smirked. "Okay, okay, it's a good bike. I get it. Even if Anglu got the prototype accelerator."

"Well, yeah, but you can't blame Gadon." Mission shrugged. "He needs to win this year."

The Bek racers were moving out to the front of the track, and we joined them. No one paid us a second glance. As we approached the scene, my eyes flicked over the motley crowd. Vulkars outnumbered everyone, including the Beks, and a wary disquiet filled me. I spotted a number of other smaller gangs, but none were as prominent as the Beks or the Vulkars. Far in the distance, I could make out a large silvery arch that heralded the start of the track.

At the side of the hangar near the podium, a cage gleamed under artificial lighting.

"Whoa, that's the Jedi?" Mission whispered quietly.

I stared at the prone form. Chrome glinted around her throat. Neural disruptor. Blocks the Force. That's why I can't sense her. Even from this distance, I could see porcelain skin, a voluptuous form, and delicately braided dark hair. Tight, scanty scraps of black leather clothed her.

Darkness challenged me, and I was transported.

…

A door opened, and I stood waiting, expectant. Three Jedi entered the room cautiously, and even from a distance I could recognize the centre figure: Bastila Shan.

…

"Jen, you okay?"

I blinked rapidly, shaking away the vision. "Yeah. Fine."

So Bastila and I have met before. But as friends, or foes?

Mission had turned back, scanning the crowd. But inside my head, the dark thoughts still spun, tripping over themselves in confusion and anger. Of course I've met her before, bonehead. How else would the bond be created?

My gaze dragged unerringly back to the trapped woman. She looked so powerless, slumped inside the cage, hands bound in metallic shackles that crossed at her front. She should be dead, a voice growled softly. She will be dead!

The heat of anger returned in a surge, threatening to shatter through the calm concentration I wanted- I needed- to get through the damn day. I swallowed, squeezed my eyes shut, and forcibly turned my thoughts back to that old tactical game a part of me had once played.

I will rescue her, and then I will leave. The game board rose like a mirage in my minds-eye, like a focus for calm. I will rescue her, and then I will leave.

"I can't believe a Jedi could be so helpless, though," Mission whispered at my side. "Like, makes you wonder how true all those stories about them really are."

There was something... something foreign edging around the sides of my consciousness. Something I was beginning to recognize all too well.

"She's not helpless," I mumbled through cold lips. The calm in my head shook, but this time with alarm. "Not anymore."

The bond was returning. I snapped open my eyes, staring frantically at the prisoner again. Her hands - which had been restrained, or seemingly so - were fiddling at her exposed neck. Fiddling with the Force-blocking device that kept her helpless - and out of my mind.

I've got to stay calm and collected. I pushed back the anger. The despair. Shoved it all away. I can't let myself lose control, not here, not with Mission next to me. If the kath crap is about to hit the fan, I have to make sure Mission gets away safe.

The Jedi's limbs had dropped back to her front, clasped like they were still constrained by the metallic bands around her wrists. The neural disruptor rested innocently against her creamy skin.

I should have been glad the Jedi had found a way to initiate her own escape. I could have understood if my brief, blazing anger from earlier had returned. But my thoughts were cooling, instead; transposing into a hard-edged wariness, as I dragged my attention away from the semi-bound prisoner and began to survey the area.

"What do you mean?" Mission hissed.

"Stay close," I said curtly. "And wait-"

"Jen Sahara," a gravelly voice at my back interrupted. I tensed, turning in a quick movement to catch sight of a large, armoured mercenary. "We meet again."

"Canderous Ordo," I acknowledged in mild surprise. He recognized me through this disguise? I was impressed. Either he'd been watching me since I entered the pit lane, or he'd had inside knowledge of the Beks racing list. As a merc, I'd lay credits on him working for the Exchange, but I couldn't be sure.

Whatever the Mandalorian was doing, here, I could only hope his objective didn't interfere with mine.

I felt my eyebrow quirk as I eyed him over in obvious appraisal. He was wielding a formidable repeating blaster slung over his shoulder, with blaster pistols holstered on either side of his waist. His helm was raised to reveal a chiselled, weathered face staring hard at me in consideration.

The rest of his large and, no doubt, heavily muscled body was encased in a full set of heavy armour. Not the beskar'gam his clans had prided themselves on, maybe; but the man was formidably attired nonetheless.

Here was one merc I didn't underestimate.

"I didn't pick you for a swoop fan," I said lightly.

As a dig for information, it worked.

"I'm not." His lips curled at the thought. "My employer has an interest in Brejik's little toy." He indicated the caged Jedi.

Oh great, I thought sourly. I'm going to piss off a Mandalorian.

A controlled flow of anger bubbled at the edges of my thoughts - but it wasn't mine. Not this time. Bastila, rousing, and invading my senses over our stars-cursed bond. She was going to act, sooner or later - I could only hope she had the sense to wait for the opportune time.

::The annual Taris swoop race shall now began!:: An amplified broadcast from the race announcer echoed over the hum of the crowd. ::Please collect your tickets from the race controller, and begin your heats when the number is called!::

"Wait!" a loud, aggressive voice sliced through the cheers. I looked up towards the control deck, where the winners podium had been erected on a dais in preparation for the race's completion. An armoured man strode belligerently in front of the control deck, clad in shining black and red armour. His pose was cocky and sure as he scanned the crowd.

Brejik. The disgusted thought scythed through my mind, and it wasn't- it wasn't mine.

I blinked, stunned. Was that Bastila? Was our close proximity making the bond so frelling powerful? Did I really just… hear her thoughts?

"Before this starts, there is one gang here that has illegal equipment, and therefore should be disqualified!" The speaker exuded a combative air of authority, and considering his garb it had to be Brejik. The leader of the Vulkars.

Angry voices muttered from the clusters of swoop racers, loudest from those dressed in Bek colours. They'd been warned by Gadon to expect trouble, but I had the feeling that everyone thought they might actually get a race or two in first.

The armoured Mandalorian next to me looked amused, but his grip was sure on his weapon. He was used to action, and could sense it coming. So could I.

I leaned over to Mission. "Things are about to get violent. You need to get ready to run out of here on my command."

"The Bek racers are cheating!" Brejik hollered over the dissenting crowd. "Investigate that bike, and you will find an illegal accelerator!" An armoured hand raised, and pointed directly at Anglu's bike.

"What? You mean the prototype you tried to steal from us?" a Bek yelled out angrily.

"See!" Brejik demanded. "They admit their guilt!"

Several of the smaller gangs backed away to the edges of the track. Canderous hefted his repeating blaster into a ready position, surveying the scene with interest. My eyes were pinned to the Jedi. Patience. Wait for the right time. Was that my thought, or hers? I couldn’t tell.

"You're a liar, Brejik!" A Sullustan in Bek colours was shaking his fist angrily at the Vulkar leader. That decided me.

"Mission, scram. Now," I ordered into her ear.

"But-"

"Get. Out." My voice was low, dangerous, demanding. She backpedalled before turning and dashing out of the pit lane and towards the Lower City exit.

"You lead your people well," Canderous remarked. My hand crept under the overalls to clutch a blaster. I mentally cursed the fact that I hadn't snuck a vibrosword in – but at the time I'd thought that smuggling in two blasters posed enough of a risk, considering the race controllers took perverse delight in searching those who hadn't bribed them enough. The Beks, on the whole, were heavily equipped, but as an independent racing for them I wasn't given quite the same status. Canderous – with whoever his employer was and I'd be putting my credits on the Exchange - had obviously been granted leave to carry in whatever weaponry he desired.

"You dare to question me?" Brejik's face was livid. "You festering scum! Vulkars, attack! Kill the Beks!"

"Everyone, to me! Show no mercy!" one of the more aggressive Beks yelled. I pulled out both blasters, and stood ready. Canderous stood at my side, legs apart and repeating blaster aimed in front. That's been heavily modified. Look at size of the barrel, and that recharge therm sure as stars ain't factory made. I idly wondered which part of me could recognize weapons so readily.

The battle broke out, and many of the smaller gangs on the edge of the pit lane melted away. Some joined in on either side. A Vulkar charged at me with a blade. I sidestepped and shot him twice in the chest. The faint blue of a poor energy shield wearing thin was momentarily visible as he launched a wide swinging blow at me. Jumping backwards, I fired again and again, finger numbing on the trigger as he stumbled and collapsed under the onslaught. The heat of battle pounded through me - an urgent, dark desire for more - and with a snarl I ran forward, shot him in the face, and made a grab for his vibrosword as it toppled from lifeless fingers.

Spinning it slightly in my sword-arm - my off-hand still grasping the second blaster - I only just spotted the grenade as it rolled towards me. I leapt backward as a percussion wave slammed into me, knocking me flat. Rolling with a gasp, mildly stunned, I scrambled to my feet and spotted the Mandalorian, also, recovering. He'd been closer than me to the blast.

"Guess I'm on the Beks side then." Canderous barked a harsh laugh, and it was a dangerous sound. His grey eyes glinted as he rejoined me. "(Today is a good day for someone else to die!)" he yelled in Mandalorian.

"Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur!" I echoed him, and we charged together into a group of three snarling Vulkars. His repeating blaster took two down; the last was still firing at Canderous as my vibrosword slammed into his side. Brittle armour gave way as the blade sank satisfyingly into flesh; the Vulkar gurgled as I pulled the vibrosword back and shot him with the blaster. The Vulkar gurgled as he fell.

Canderous was staring at me intently as I looked up, feeling the battle euphoria humming in my veins. I could feel the red mist descending, and my smile back was feral. Our attention was caught by two gang members charging at us, and it was instinctive to reach out to the Force... only to find it missing. What? The beginnings of the berserker rage fled as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on my head. What's going on? I thought I'd figured out how to use the Force

My vibrosword was up just in time to parry a blow, and shakily I pushed back, only to have the offending Vulkar crumble in front of me due to some other injury. Looking up, I saw the angry Sullustan Bek from earlier shoot me a grin above his blaster. Canderous was standing over a second corpse.

A renewed sense of purpose flooded my brain, and it took a second to realize it was originating from Bastila. I jerked my head up to see her stagger out of her cage, and face the closest Vulkar. The determination was there, but she felt woozy, disorientated. I became aware of her scrabbling to hold onto the Force, and somehow I knew it was a feeble attempt.

"No! The prize– get her!" Brejik screamed through the onslaught.

"Sithspit," I cursed.

Canderous' gaze followed mine. "You are after her as well," he said in a low voice.

I scanned the room frantically, and my eyes rested on Anglu's swoop bike. For lack of a better option... I darted away from the Mandalorian, sprinting through the chaos with only the target of the swoop bike in my vision. I ducked to the side of two gang members brawling, dodged under a swinging vibrosword, and ran directly through a blaster fight, trusting on sheer luck to stop me getting hit in the cross-fire.

My hands rested on the solid chrome of the swoop bike.

At least I was bright enough to let Mission show me how to start these fool things, I thought grimly as I swung my legs over the bike, and carelessly threw both the vibrosword and the secondary blaster away. I turned momentarily to pinpoint Bastila. Five Vulkars surrounded her. I could feel her fumble to do something through the bond, and the scowl on her face said it all. She's still weak. Her Force powers are not fully back yet.

I heard Anglu yell in protest as I started the bike. It thrummed a loud vibration under my legs, and I quickly yanked it into gear and squeezed the throttle. The back end threatened to skid out, and my hands gripped the steering column tightly as I aimed the bike directly into the crowded mob, loosing a wild yell that was half-warning, half-crazy.

Sentients jumped out of the way; one was knocked sideways by the bike, and it shuddered in response. A bright flash of a grenade to my right may or may not have been directed at me; I accelerated further and was on the Vulkar mob within seconds.

Braking and pulling the steering column to one side, the swoop bike skidded sideways and knocked two of the thugs momentarily prone to the ground.

"Get on!" I screamed in the direction of the Jedi.

Bastila whirled to face me. Defiant anger melted into shocked horror. I supposed she'd never expected to see me again, but her reaction was hardly complimentary. "You!" she gasped, her cheeks fading to a pasty white. With an admirable amount of self-control, her emotions and expression turned impassive. Her eyes flicked over the scene, and then she ran towards me, leaping onto the bike.

"Go!" she hissed into my ear, her fingers wrapping tightly around my waist and digging in with desperation.

"She's escaping!" The red-and-black clad figure of Brejik was no longer on the dais, but directly in my path, howling. "Stop them!"

I snarled and accelerated. Brejik stood his ground, legs apart, and began to raise his blaster to fire. I opened the throttle as wide as it could go, and pointed the nose of the swoop directly at him. I saw the shocked realization on his scarred face when he understood I wasn't planning on dodging; his expression twisted comically and he lurched to the side at the last possible moment.

Accelerate, an inner voice ordered. I responded, and the engine roared underneath my calves. Up ahead, I saw the glittering arch that touted the beginning of the swoop track proper, and the exit from the mayhem behind us. I heard Bastila stifle a scream, and saw the energy pulse of blaster shots fire past in my periphery.

Dodge. My fingers tightened on the column, and I began to steer from side to side, weaving the bike jerkily as it erupted onto the swoop track. Instinctively, I crouched lower on the swoop, my body leaning in time with the swerving. Up ahead, a flashing yellow light indicated an energy-propelled launch pad.

Jump. The blackened tunnel of the Taris swoop track enveloped us, and I aimed directly for the launch pad. Bastila's arms tightened, and my ribs creaked in reply.

Sun and stars, this was supposed to be Mission's task!

The bike sailed over the jump, and the air whipped through my dark curls. I could feel Bastila pressing her face tight against my back. As the bike descended, the visage of a large obstacle came into view. I jerked the bike to the right in avoidance, and it shuddered under my inelegant control.

How many people did Mission say die in swoop accidents again? The impact-suppression system could only do so much; at full speed against a solid wall, both bike and rider would surely be written off.

"There are bikes after us!" Bastila screamed over the wind. "Go faster!"

I don't know how to ride this stupid thing, and she wants me to speed up? I saw the flashes of blaster fire spin past me from behind, and realized that heeding Bastila was paramount. We had a head-start, but with the weight of two riders we were at a sore disadvantage. I switched gears again, and the bike lurched forwards. My gloved hands felt unwieldy as I strained to retain my grip, and the high-pitch of the swoop engine increased as I left the throttle wide open.

The track turned into a sweeping right bender, and I aimed for the inside line, weaving slightly to avoid a thick metal plate the protruded from the ground. The corner continued, tightening, and the bike leaned into it, almost kissing against the darkened wall.

The track straightened out and us with it, before we flew over a launch pad that thumped us into the air, boosting velocity with an upward thrust. I heard a squeak from behind. A large, dark wall loomed ahead, blocking most of the track's width other than a narrow gap on either side. Red laser bolts spat against it, and I realized with horror that our pursuers were closing in.

I need to find a way out of here. I wrenched the bike to the left, aiming for the slight opening at near-full speed, and slightly misjudged the angle required. As we shot past the barrier, the swoop ground against the outer wall in a shower of electronic sparks before the impact knocked us back onto the track and our velocity dipped. Not good! Sithspit, not good at all! Gasping, I straightened the steering column and accelerated again, but too quickly; the bike jerked and threatened to spin, skidding sideways across the track. I looked up desperately and my gaze rested on an innocent ladder bolted to the opposite wall.

That's a service exit! I slammed on the brakes and pulled hard to the left; our momentum plummeted and the swoop screeched to a stop, gently thudding against the ferracrete wall right next to the ladder. Blood pounded a deafening echo in my head, telling me to move, move, move.

"Quick!" I howled, dismounting the bike in a leap and turning back to face the Jedi. She'd understood my intent, for she was one step ahead - jumping in an impressive Force-induced surge and catching herself hard against the bolted rungs of the service ladder. She swung to the side, and then clambered up inelegantly towards a dark shaft near the ceiling.

A loud, hot thrum whistled piercingly close to my ear, and with a horrified realization I recognized a pursuing swoop racer, having cleared the obstacle wall and sailed right past us. Get a move on, bantha-brain! I lunged for the ladder, and scrabbled up quickly behind the Jedi, feeling the loud swoosh of another bike rocket by. As I pulled myself through the hatch, a deafening explosion rocked the ferracrete foundations and a whirling piece of carnage sailed dangerously close to where my legs had just been.

We were in a dimly-lit tunnel above the track, and Bastila's pale face stared into mine.

"A moment," she murmured, raising her hand beyond me. I heard the ominous creak of metal, and craned my neck to see the roof of the service tunnel fracture and twist before collapsing in on itself and blocking the path behind us.

For a moment, I felt the weaves of the Force as they bent under Bastila's will.

Jerking my head back to face her, I saw her dark eyes fixed on mine.

"I suppose you call this a rescue?" she muttered.

Incredulity swamped any irritation that may have surfaced at such arrogance; I merely gaped at her in shocked surprise.

She shook her head, delicate braids tossing. "No time to argue. Come, we must go." She turned, and moved deeper into the service tunnel.

Stunned at her audacity, I could only follow.

xXx

Chapter Text

Resolve

- Bastila Shan -

The blaster wound warmed my side with pulses of agony. I wrapped the pain up in detachment, and continued running. I could hear her footsteps echoing close behind, and my mind screamed at me in fear.

There is no emotion; there is peace.

The service tunnel exited into the back maintenance corridors of the swoop track. I halted, glancing wildly about as I tried to judge which direction to take. Sentients were sprinting past, most garbed in oil-stained coveralls that proclaimed them as mechanics. A few exclaimed loudly, jabbering in dialects too furious or foreign for me to decipher.

The panic made it clear, though: the gang fighting still raged, and I had to assume the hunt for me was on.

My companion nudged me, then; pointing silently to an emergency exit from the swoop complex, outlined in a galactically recognizable red and white. I ran straight for the door, hands grasping tight to yank the chrome bolt upwards, before shoving my weight against the heavy metallic barricade that stood between us and ephemeral freedom.

The exit groaned open as my supposed rescuer barreled into it, adding her strength to mine. An alarm wailed in immediate complaint; I darted through the opening and turned, already raising my hand as my accomplice followed.

The Force surged to my call. Comforting, familiar, powerful. A presence that, when denied to me, had been a more frightening experience than I would have foreseen.

The door slammed shut beneath my desire. Even through inches of whatever substandard metal composite was used on this dissolute planet, we could still hear a loud clang as the bolt dropped into place on the other side.

Followed shortly thereafter by the echoes of coarse yells and blaster fire. We had to move.

My limbs sped forth once more; I barely took in my surroundings as we both dashed forward blindly. Uneven, cracked walling formed the tunnels of habitation. Intermittent lighting threw shadowed ghosts that chased us as we ran into darker alleys. I strained to see, even to regulate my own breathing - and behind me came the hoarse pants of the woman who followed. The sound sent a staccato reminder of what was truly at stake.

You cannot make a person out of a beast. My father's sage advice, after my miserable attempt at raising a kath pup.

Let serenity dictate your actions; emotions simply blur logical judgments. That was from Master Vrook.

I fervently wished I still had my lightsaber.

Three exits beckoned at the end of the narrow tunnel. I choose the left one; a dark, twisting alleyway, and continued running.

My plan had been simple. Wait until some egregious lowlife won that childish competition. Wait until I was led away, submissive and apparently impotent. And then, make my move. All that, ruined by gang members and their precipitous tempers.

The tunnel split in two; again, I choose the left.

"Stop!" the woman hissed behind me. My legs jerked; halting suddenly, almost tumbling over one another. I spun around to see my companion slither into a side exit I had not even noticed.

The spike of alarm was hard to swallow down. Steeling myself, I darted after her.

Blackened walls closeted me on both sides. The artificial lighting of the Lower City had fled in terror from this place, and I could feel the acrid taste of panic rising to gnaw at the edges of my control.

It was a struggle merely to harness the Force, even just to sense the woman.

I am not prepared. The truth was more than simply a blow to my ego; it was a damning indictment of my competency - or lack thereof. I am not prepared to face Revan. Not like this.

Faith, child. Master Vrook may have been sparing with his praise, but his encouragement was always steadfast. You must have faith.

I had faced Revan before, in far more alarming circumstances. I had triumphed; surprisingly, amazingly, against overwhelming odds. I would not falter, not here.

The Force drew in deep; steady, assiduous and calming. I breathed in, and allowed it to settle into my core.

"We should be safe here for a few minutes," Revan- Jen whispered to me. Her face was a spectre in the shadows. "We have a lead on the Vulkars now, and I doubt they'd spot this alley if you didn't."

"Why are we stopping?" I demanded, and cursed the waver I heard in my voice.

She uttered no response, and a second later I heard an electronic beep.

"Are you guys there?" Jen hissed. There was a crackle of static, and it took a second to comprehend she was no longer addressing me.

I am indebted to her. I may have formulated my own escape from the restraints, but it is Revan who extracted me from the swoop track. The thought was sobering. Yet her own debts to humanity itself were beyond the region of appalling; truly, I owed her nothing.

But, why? Why has she rescued me?

::Jen! Dammit, I saw that fight on the holo-screens! We feared the worst - what in the blazes happened?:: a male voice snapped out from what must be her comm-link.

To my utter astonishment, I heard her laugh. A response, in a situation like this, so unlike the shy scholar that an icy horror crawled through my veins. How much of what remains is Revan? My mind touched on the ever-present bond that linked us; amusement wafted from her like smoke from a campfire. The emotion was more potent than her fear.

And I wasn't sure - but I thought I had felt her reach out to the Force earlier.

That alone made me want to run away, gibbering. Jen Sahara should not be able to remember such a thing. It was fortunate the bond allowed me to block her access, which had become instinctual - but the very idea she might be actively seeking the Force was, simply, frightening.

There is no passion; there is serenity.

"No time for lectures, Flyboy! We need help, and we need it now," Revan- Jen said in a low voice. Jen Sahara, I reminded myself. I must think of her as such.

::Zaalbar and I are already scouring the alleyways. Where are you?:: the voice demanded.

"No idea, Mission might know. Can I speak to her?"

::Uh, she's been missing since you left.:: A crackling howl of some description followed the response.

"Balls of a rancor!" Revan swore, and I winced instinctively.

Oh, who am I fooling? The realization was as irritating as it was perilous. Jen Sahara would never blurt such an epithet.

"Never mind," Revan continued, voice deep and intent. "We'll head to the Upper City - see you in the hideout."

::Don't do anything stup-:: A click, and the comm-link turned off. I sensed Revan turn to face me. I resisted the urge to shrink back from what I knew to be her piercing green gaze. You cannot make a person out of a beast. Why had I even tried?

Because she had been a person, once.

"We need to get to the Upper City. There may be some old maintenance shafts around here - I don't think we can risk going through the main entrance," she was saying, as she shuffled something over her head.

I could not quite tell, but she almost appeared to be removing her clothes.

"What are you doing?" My voice, firm and resolved. The Force echoed a deep thrum of reassurance in my grasp.

"Shedding my overalls," she drawled, and the lilt of mirth in her voice was evident. "I don't think you really want to wander around Taris half-naked."

My cheeks burned as I realized the state of my undress. That- that Brejik. That slimy, good-for-nothing- I forced the bright anger back under control with some effort. I could not entirely quell the desire to see that degenerate dead, for all that I had endured.

Revan threw me the crumpled clothing. As I hastily searched for the fasteners, it struck me that the leadership role had shifted. I must take charge. I must postpone the mission, and get her to the masters. I lifted a leg awkwardly in the darkness, struggling to pull the musty overalls up around my waist. I must get myself to the masters.

"Good idea," I offered, as I shrugged the clothing over my shoulders. "Now. What is your plan of action from here?"

There was an odd blast of incredulity from within the bond. I somehow had the sense she was staring at me in disbelief. "To get away from the guys trying to kill us!"

She moved back to the opening of the narrow alley as I affixed the final fastener. "Who were you talking to?" I demanded, one step behind her.

"Your boyfriend," Revan murmured. Her voice was wry, and once more thrumming with amusement.

"I beg your pardon?" I snapped. Even the mere thought of such set my cheeks burning.

She stifled a chuckle. "Carth Onasi."

The sense of relief was all-encompassing. Captain Onasi! Now this rescue makes sense! If Revan was following his orders, then that confirmed the situation was salvageable. She did not know who she truly was. But I do not believe she is entirely Jen Sahara anymore. Still, there was hope. Everything could still be on track.

"Captain Onasi is alive!" I enthused, allowing myself a small sigh of relief. "That is good news. But we're not out of danger, yet. You must tell me what kind of resources we can draw on, if I am going to figure out a way to extract us from here."

Talk about your all-time spoilt Jedi brats!

I stiffened in hot indignation as her thought crested sharply between us. Revan might have no awareness of our bond, but the Force-link was a constant curse in my mind. Her uppermost thoughts fed through to me with startling ease.

"Look, lady, I'm taking you back to Flyboy, and then I'm off." Her voice was cold.

Oh, no, you are certainly not. My determination swelled, banking down the fear that battled for supremacy. "My name is Bastila Shan, if you do not recall from the Endar Spire," I said archly. "But we shall discuss it later. For now, we should get a move on."

"Sun and stars, you brought it up!" she exclaimed petulantly. She huffed, before spinning around, and darting deep into the bowels of alley. "Just- just sodding well follow me so we can get out of here!"

There is no chaos; there is harmony.

I would not allow my fists to clench in fruitless anger. For all of her irreverence, Revan's approach was likely the wisest - we should keep moving, and fast.

"Jen!" a kid's voice squeaked deeper in the darkness, and halted our stride.

"Mission?" Revan gasped, her voice laced with surprise. I'm going to kill that reckless girl!

Fright struck hard; the Force responded, swelling in my grasp, ready to stun Revan at my will. I could not- I would not allow her to react with such flagrant and cavalier disregard for life.

"That was so intense!" the voice gushed. The form of a young girl slowly coalesced from the shadows ahead.

"You're in so much trouble," Revan muttered. I was on the precipice of throwing her into a Force-induced stasis when she laughed.

Laughed. Again.

The surprise alone held me back.

The girl called Mission huffed. And at that moment, I fully interpreted Revan's chaotic mess of emotions that echoed through our bond. Fear. Fear, rather than anger. Fear for the girl's safety?

It seemed... incongruous. Hard to believe. But the relief that surged from my bond-mate was now mirrored by my own. For a brief moment there, I had been afraid myself. Afraid of witnessing the return of Revan. Darth Revan.

"Trouble? Look, I did what you asked, okay?" the girl retorted. "I stayed out of the fighting. But, sheesh, I freaked when I saw the race!" She took a step closer. The shadows clung to the girl, but I could pick out a visor strapped around a young face. A set of Twi'leki lekku curled tight around her neck. "So, I hacked into one of the control computers, and tracked you on the holo-cams. I had to switch to the Bek grid when you went out the service tunnel - that was wizard by the way! The swoops behind you were about to-"

"Mission!" Revan spoke over the girl's onslaught, but her voice was warm and amused. "You're the amazing one. But we need to move. Know of a back way to the Upper City from here?"

"The Upper City? But I thought-"

"The Bek base won't be safe, after that slaughter," Revan muttered, cutting the Twi'lek off. Not entirely sure I'll be welcome, after pinching Anglu's swoop.

Her rash thought made me realize just how ill-planned and spontaneous this rescue had been. Either Revan's plan had completely imploded, or she hadn't had one in the first place.

Although, I could have been more tactful with my first words to her, I realized with some chagrin.

"Alright!" the kid agreed brightly. "Follow me!"

The girl led us further down the dark tunnel, and we followed her silently. Revan's emotions had settled down, and all I could sense from her now was an icy determination. I cannot let her get away. I realized I needed to use all my persuasive powers to convince Revan to journey with me. But that could wait, until we were in a safe place.

Mission led us to an abandoned elevator shaft. There was still no light whatsoever, and I wondered how Revan could find her way around. The Twi'lek had a visor, but Revan did not. Her ability to move through darkness disturbed me. She may not be who she once was, but she is not behaving how she should be, either.

"This hasn't been used in years. We can climb up the service ladders - they exit in a junkyard on the bad side of Upper Taris," Mission informed us as she twisted inside the hole. I wondered briefly what had happened to the elevator itself.

"There's a bad side of Upper Taris?" Revan muttered. It almost sounded sarcastic.

"Well, not bad like the Lower City. But generally where the aliens hang out. And some of the gangs."

"I think we had best avoid them, then." I said primly.

"That's the idea," Mission said brightly. I was glad to hear no sarcasm in her voice.

The agility of the girl surprised me, as I sensed her climb up the supporting railings in the shaft. Revan followed more slowly, occasionally muttering to herself. I did not have too much trouble, with the Force as my ally. The pain in my side had dulled to a distant throbbing. Soon I will take care of that.

As we ascended, a thin ray of weak light slowly pervaded our surroundings. My muscles ached despite my own strength. I cannot wait for some time in a refresher unit. I had been feeling dirty for far too long. I could still feel demanding, violent hands upon my skin, and I inwardly cursed Brejik to the darkest corner of the Outer Rim.

Yet I had to feel grateful that it had been a swoop gang who captured me, rather than the Sith. For all the indignities I had suffered under Brejik, he could have done worse.

He almost did. That time I escaped from his grasp. That time he realized he was dealing with a Jedi, not a fugitive Republic officer.

It must have been days ago, now. I had run free from a winded Brejik, and it had only been due to a lucky stun bolt from one of his men that I did not make it far enough. When I woke again, it was to a pounding headache and a disruptor cinched tightly around my neck.

A neural inhibitor could be overcome by Force-strength or inner will, but those kaiburr-based disruptors... they were rare, difficult to procure or purchase, and impossible to disable with the Force. In that moment, I had felt the taste of despair more bitter and bleak than I had ever known. There was no way to stop Brejik from enacting his most monstrous desires, no way to stop him from gifting me to the Sith...

But I soon came to realize that everything had changed with my calamitous escape attempt.

Brejik still continued his preposterous campaign of a swoop championship, but his manner toward me now held a reserve that had been lacking before. Perhaps it was because he feared the reprisal of a Jedi, or maybe he enjoyed drawing out the anticipation, but he did not subject me to any further violations - and certainly not the worst one of all.

I am lucky. The Force is with me.

Brejik decided a local swoop competition was of greater benefit to him than selling me out to the Sith.

I managed to free my hands and disable that cursed disruptor enroute to the swoop track.

All I have suffered is rough manhandling and lewd remarks.

I still felt unclean, and abused.

I gritted my teeth, pushed the tumultuous thoughts away, and followed the others.

The climb felt long. Each step was an arduous feat done in silence, broken only by the occasional grunt of effort from one of us. As the environs lightened, I allowed my attention to fix upon the others, while my feet climbed ever upward.

The girl Twi'lek was garbed in vivid green synthetics; a figure-hugging outfit the easily displayed her agility as she scurried up the ladders with the grace of youth. Revan, in contrast, had donned what looked like scale mesh beneath the overalls I now wore. The weight of her armour seemed to hamper her little; either that, or it was a sheer force of will urging her forward, matching pace with the speedy girl in front.

Once, Revan's physical form had been nothing but tightly packed muscle over a skeleton. She certainly did not have the same physique now, and nor was it the Force lending her strength. And yet... and yet it was not the bodily weak and emotionally fragile Jen Sahara I now had to control.

"We're here!" Mission hissed, and I looked up in surprise to see the youth scramble out of sight. Both Revan and I were quick to follow.

As I scrambled over the ledge of the empty elevator shaft, my first impression was one of enclosure. We were surrounded on all sides by dull high-rise buildings that looked both utilitarian and drab in appearance. Littered on the ground were various heaps of metallic rubble and broken machinery. In the distance, a group of Ithorians were bending over something I could not make out.

A beep cut through our silence; I turned, to see Revan tapping at the device on her wrist.

::Jen, where are you? Zaalbar's getting desperate, if his howls are anything to go by,:: a voice rapped out, accompanied by a roar from someone else. That must be Carth. I wonder who Zaalbar is. Could that be a Wookiee, here on Taris? As preposterous as the idea was, the howl sounded suspiciously like one.

"We're fine, in the Upper City. Mission's with us. Meet you at the apartment," Revan replied succinctly, before switching off the communicator.

"Big Z's gonna yell at me," the Twi'lek muttered sulkily.

I saw Revan grin at her. "Mission, can you get us to an apartment building? It's near a cantina."

Mission groaned at Revan. "How many cantinas do you think are in Upper Taris? Sheesh, and how many apartment buildings?"

"Well, the cantina hosts a dueling ring run by a Hutt called Ajuur, if that's any help."

The girl brightened. "We're close by! That's in the alien quarter, where we are. Follow me!"

We managed to avoid any Sith, but I saw some in the distance. It made me suddenly glad for the nondescript overalls I wore; appreciative for the foresight of the one who dogged my every thought.

Revan took over the lead as we entered a run-down building. She strode over to a door, pulled out a tech spike and started slicing the locking mechanism with practiced ease. That's not a skill Jen Sahara knows. A cold chill danced down my spine. Revan looked up at me suddenly, green eyes intent. Can she sense the bond? Fear pricked pimples along my arms. I hurriedly detached myself from it, and attempted to throw her a benevolent smile. She blinked warily at me, and turned back to the electronic lock.

"Hey, you're not bad," Mission commented as the door opened beneath Revan's ministrations. "Not as good as me, though." The Twi'lek grinned cheekily, drawing a laugh from Revan as we entered the room.

Revan's self-proclaimed hideout was no more than a one-room apartment, with dingy, stained walls and a cracked plasticeel floor. The sole bunk bore a rumpled blanket, with a knapsack of gear littered near the foot. The other wall boasted a tiny kitchenette that had obviously seen better days.

"Is this where you have been camping out?" I asked.

"Uh, more or less," Revan muttered.

"So," Mission interrupted brightly, turning to face me. "I'm Mission by the way!"

The girl was beaming at me. I tried to answer her welcoming smile with my own. "It is nice to meet you, Mission." I wasn't sure if I should offer to shake her hand. How did Tarisians act upon first introductions? "I thank you for your assistance," I told her. My sentiment was genuine, but I had the sinking feeling that my words came across as stilted. "My name is Bastila."

I was saved from any further social awkwardness by the door opening.

Carth Onasi strode in, followed by the towering form of a Wookiee. My eyes widened in surprise, despite the fact I had already wondered at the species of the one named Zaalbar.

"Bastila!" Carth greeted. His warm brown eyes creased in relief. "Finally, things are looking up."

"Captain Onasi, it is good to see you again."

Carth crooked a smile at me. "Under the circumstances, Bastila, I think we can dispense with formalities. Call me Carth."

My unease dissipated. I had not much to do with Captain Onasi on the Endar Spire, but I trusted his loyalty to the Republic. A famous war-hero, Carth Onasi had been stationed onboard the Endar Spire in an advisory capacity, commanding the pilots who navigated the Hammerhead-class cruiser in the name of our quest.

Our quest, which had so disastrously failed before we had come anywhere near our destination. My eyes closed briefly, and I once more struggled to detach myself from the despair that had loomed within me since the first alarm on the Endar Spire had sounded.

"(Mission!)" The Wookiee had loped over to the Twi'lek girl, before picking her up bodily.

I felt the tang of apprehension flare to life in my belly. The Wookiee fair towered over the girl. I could not trust Revan's strange companions-

"(You should not have been there! I should not have let Jen talk me into it!)"

The Twi'lek struggled in his furry arms. "Let me down, Big Z!" she squealed.

The apprehension grew as I wildly considered intervening. Why were the others not saying anything-

"(No!)" the menacing Wookiee howled. "(You keep running into danger, and scaring me witless!)"

I blinked. The meaning of his words registered, and abruptly I could sense the source of the Wookiee's distress. Concern, pure and simple - which immediately assuaged my doubts.

I felt the soft puff of a relieved sigh escape my lips.

"Zaalbar, you should blame me," Revan said quietly to the Wookiee. "I needed her skills, her ability to sneak onto the track. I did my best to keep her from danger-"

"I ain't a kid!" Mission protested hotly.

"-but if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have been free to rescue Bastila." Her eyes slid to mine, then, guarded and wary, and I recalled my earlier words. Embarrassment flushed through me; I had never felt at ease in social situations with normal people, let alone mind-wiped former Sith Lords.

I swallowed, and forced my mind to focus on the intangible mind-link between us. It was resonating with the maelstrom of her chaotic emotions.

Suspicion. Fear. Fear of... me?

Could she be just as scared of me as I am of her?

I was not certain, but the thought alone was enough to calm me.

"Thank you. All of you," I said quietly, keeping my eyes intent on Revan's green gaze.

Zaalbar put Mission down gently.

"(Jen)," the Wookiee wailed. "(I cannot-)"

And then, I realized, Revan had been following their conversation intently. She can understand Shyriiwook. Jen Sahara had known only a smattering of languages, half of them dead for millennia and of interest only to academics. She certainly had not the knowledge of the Wookiee language.

But perhaps this is a skill that would stay with her regardless? Perhaps the knowledge of a language is not something that would disappear, even under massive head trauma and a personality implant?

I had to believe that, for the thought of Revan relearning some of her old talents was horrifying.

"Big Z, calm down, okay?" the Twi'lek was saying. "Jen needed some help, and I was the only one who could do it. You'd put yourself in danger to help as well, if you could! Let me do my part, alright?" She finished on a scowl.

Carth sighed suddenly. "Whatever you guys are arguing about, you may as well drop it. Jen's determined to be insanely reckless, and for some odd reason it seems to pay off. Bastila's here, and alive."

Insanely reckless. Carth's words, exasperated and weary, were not an accurate description of the Jen Sahara that had been on the Endar Spire. As if I did not need yet another reminder that the personality implant was shaking loose. The Force healers said the chances of her recalling anything did not fall within a plausible range of probability. That the identity of Jen Sahara was firmly enmeshed. What has changed since then?

I would think on it later. For now, it was time to steer the conversation back on track.

"Well, enough of this. We should be talking about the plan to get off Taris," I intervened, hoping to end the discussion.

"I knew it!" Mission said. She threw an exuberant grin at the Wookiee. "Big Z, we're going on an adventure!"

I blinked in surprise. My gaze slid sideways, to purvey a strange grimace dominating Revan's countenance.

"Um, Mission," Revan began. She dragged one hand roughly through her short mop. "I'm not going with them." The Twi'lek jerked around to stare at her in bemusement. I felt the same sense of determination from earlier, a steely resolve swell from within, but before I could utter a word Carth jumped straight in.

"That's right," he said, his words low and angry. "Just leave - walk out on the Republic and your promises to the Jedi Council."

"I'm not walking out on anybody." Revan clenched her teeth. Between us I could feel her dark emotions building. In a way, it was less surprising than Captain Onasi's anger. He was a professional and experienced Republic officer, and yet obviously felt the taint of betrayal at the thought of her desertion.

They have been together for some time. Perhaps it is not all that startling.

I cleared my throat. "You cannot walk out, Jen," I said smoothly. "You signed a contract with the Jedi Council, do you remember?"

She should, that was one of the artificial ones. That memory should bind her well and truly to the Council.

Revan's face drained of all colour, as her wide eyes gazed at me helplessly. The stink of nausea and fear stormed from her, but was replaced immediately with a white hot anger that overpowered everything else.

"That contract!" she spat suddenly. "I wouldn't sign anything like that! It's- it's effective slavery!"

"Do not be preposterous. It is an employment contract, Jen, no more and no less. You have agreed to work with us for three years in return for an ample salary and the start of your career." I sent her a steady look, inwardly clutching onto my serenity. I had to stay calm. "The Jedi do not look kindly upon people who walk out on such contracts."

She dares to threaten me? Her thought, undercut with a vicious fury, shattered my calm. It was quickly followed by another. No, I will not get angry, dammit! Maybe I should go with them. Just to get off Taris. And then do a bunk, since Mission wants to leave so much. I wonder if that's feasible? I saw Revan's face twist with suppressed emotions. That logic should so quickly follow rage scared me. Her last thought ran through my mind - No, it's too risky. I cannot go with them.

I could feel my panic rise up again, the turgid sense of losing control. My only ally was a Republic captain ignorant of all the pertinent details, and somehow I did not think Carth Onasi would sit back while I Force-compelled Revan to follow me.

I must ensure she returns with me to Dantooine.

But what if some part of her recalled the importance of that planet? I had to get her to the masters, before the persona of Jen Sahara truly vanished and the worst threat to the galaxy reemerged. Perhaps... perhaps if I could persuade her to travel somewhere neutral, somewhere that wouldn't pose any sort of perceived threat-

"Jen, perhaps you can accompany us to Alderaan to begin with. I am sure we could do with your skills, and those of your friends," I suggested, keeping my voice mild and unassuming. Including her new... friends seemed an assumption, were it not for the loyalty they seemed to exhibit toward her. Considering who she had once been, that loyalty was not altogether surprising, and their company might make her easier to convince. One way or another, I simple had to entice the shell of Revan to follow me. "If you still feel the need to run, then I cannot stop you. But let us work together, at least, to escape from Taris."

Revan's lips thinned as her face blanked of all perceivable emotion. She was staring hard at me, and I could not decipher any emotion through the bond.

"Alderaan?" Carth threw me a frown. "That's an interesting destination. Why Alderaan?"

"It is not far from Taris," I answered, my thoughts racing in sudden need. I had not anticipated his rejoinder, although I should have. "Alderaan hosts a Republic base, Carth, and it should be a safe enough haven for the others. I can contact who I need to when we arrive, and Jen can... Jen can go her own way."

A true Jedi does not lie. I forced the calm to stay on my face, and stared back at Revan. Slowly, slowly, her head dipped in a nod of acquiescence. Success.

"Okay," Revan said softly. Her eyes narrowed. "I'll join you until Alderaan."

xXx

I spent time later in the refresher, trying to erase the stink of the Vulkars. I could feel invisible marks imprinted on my body, and flashes of Brejik's treatment tormented my mind. I shuddered, and forced back tears.

I am a Jedi, I am at peace. Trials and tribulations only make me stronger.

Oh, how I wished that I had been in full control of the Force back on the swoop track! Brejik would have been dead. No, Jedi do not kill. I would not have killed him. I am better than that. I could not quite convince myself. The neural disruptor and the sedatives had left me helpless, like a child.

He could have... he did not, in the end, but he could have-

I vowed, in that moment, that I would never be helpless again.

The others were talking softly in the main room; I had left them to clean myself and change into a spare set of clothes Carth had dashed out to procure for me. In my head, Revan felt more at peace than before. Or perhaps the word was resolved. I closed my eyes wearily.

I did not expect to deal with her alone. Back on the Endar Spire, there had been a Jedi Master and a squad of knights accompanying me. While I had been called Commander, it was only a technicality. A safeguard, should I ever have need of immediate compliance from all allies should the worst happen. Hidden as a token gesture due to my battle meditation, the change in manifest command had been accepted - even if grudgingly so.

In truth, Master Galdea had led the group. He had been one of three who had completed the personality transplant, and Jen Sahara was under his watchful eye as much as mine. We spoke many times of the brief glimpses I managed to pull from Revan's fractured mind when she dreamed. We had no reason to be alarmed then. And now Master Galdea is gone. All of those onboard the Endar Spire, gone. Carth had told me I was the only Jedi to make it to out - the others, all, had fallen while standing their ground against the Sith.

Master Galdea had ordered me to the escape pods, to wait until the last minute for Ensign Ulgo to bring Jen Sahara. To bring Revan. So I had been useless, my battle meditation unable to help, while all my comrades were cut down like renni grass. My old friend Kylah, gone. I will never see her face again. I will never scold her for her irreverence again, nor shelter behind her protection-

Grief can come later. I swallowed, forcing the bleak emotions at bay. I did not have the luxury of breaking down.

I must focus on the task at hand.

We had been heading toward Tatooine, the first of the Star Maps. Although my battle meditation had elevated my public persona in the eyes of the Republic, it had been my vision of Revan and Malak that granted me at last some status within the Order. Enough that, at long last, even Master Vrook started dropping the occasional comment regarding my oft-delayed Knight Trials.

The vision still struck fear into me, even now. It had been months after I had captured Revan; months in which the former Sith Lord had been kept comatose and helpless within the enclave's walls. Months in which the masters debated fiercely what to do with her; redemption, certainly, was a hotly contested topic, but our experts had decried that her mind was too damaged, too broken, too unstable to even bring back a coherent shell-

I had not been cognizant of the deep Force bond which linked us, had not understood why my sleep was so riddled with shadows of darkness and ever-present grief. Not until the vivid memory shot clear through my mind, that fateful day.

Revan and Malak, entering a tomb on Dantooine. Back when they were still Jedi, but in name only, for the shadows of the Dark Side were already eroding their souls.

Back when they visited Dantooine, flushed with victory from the Mandalorian Wars and determined to antagonize a council that had had little to do with them - for they had been Coruscanti Jedi.

The Dantooine Council had believed the short stayover was merely a childish act, a chance for Revan and Malak to spout I-told-you-so to the nearest Jedi Masters, for the Jedi Thirteen were now galactic heroes, famous saviours of the Republic-

But their visit had been a ruse. Not even the wisest of masters had realized then it was merely a ploy; an opportunity for the two erstwhile lovers to discover the master Star Map.

An ancient relic of the Dark Side, located not far from the Jedi stronghold, that no one knew about. We still had no idea exactly what the Star Maps pointed to, but the master one on Dantooine gave us the location of the other four planets. The Council were convinced that it held the key to the might of the Sith armada, the massive fleet that kept expanding and was slowly, surely, winning the war.

Malak was now leading the Sith, after turning on his old master when she faced me. Malak didn't have her finesse - the Dark Side had warped his reason, and he appeared to be blindly attacking any target within range. But his forces were superior. And Revan had, already, wrecked great damage upon the Republic front.

Yet I could still remember them both as they were when I had first met them. Malak, inordinately handsome and charming. Revan, cheeky, likeable, and fun. Both of them seemed so good.

It was as Master Vrook said, never underestimate the lure of the Dark Side. But there must have been something innately venal in them both to begin with, surely?

Even when I had first met them, their emotions had been apparent and uncontrolled. I closed my eyes, and remembered...

...

I followed Kylah into the courtyard. Dust swirling upward from a gentle summer's breeze swept into my eyes. I winced, squinting them shut. In the distance, I could hear the audible shink shink of a lightsaber duel.

"That's Revan Freeflight and Malak Devari!" Kylah whispered in awe. "They must be visiting from Coruscant!"

I snapped my eyes back open. Across the vast expanse of the courtyard fought two figures; one fast and fierce, the other fast and strong.

Revan and Malak? I thought in wonderment. I'd heard about them; after all, who hadn't? Two Jedi taken by the Order very late in life, and already both Jedi Knights after five brief years. And I have been here over ten. I quenched that envious thought, and reminded myself of the humility needed by all Jedi alike.

I watched as Revan ducked and dodged Malak's more powerful attacks. In return she flurried a few quick blows, which he parried easily. I couldn't take my eyes off the fight. Revan's two sabers were evenly matched by Malak's double-bladed weapon. Their speed was incredible - but it was becoming clear that Malak's strength was superior.

I cannot duel with anywhere near their prowess, despite my extensive training.

But my talents lay with the mental side of the Force, I admonished myself. I would not envy others for their gifts.

"It's like a dance, isn't it?" Kylah commented. I nodded agreement whilst keeping my focus on the duel. Inwardly, I pegged Malak as the better, but they were both talented. Very talented.

With a powerful thrust of Force that seemingly came from nowhere, Malak was thrown backwards into the dust. Revan was on him in the blink of an eye, landing a pseudo fatal blow before he had a chance to recover.

"End game!" she crowed.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Malak complained, scrambling to his feet. "You said no Force powers!"

"Fair? Come on, never expect your enemy to be fair!" Revan was grinning, green eyes dancing with merriment. Malak scowled, before glancing our way. His expression stilled as his gaze met mine. I was abruptly aware of just how handsome the young, strong, powerful Jedi Knight was. His skin gleamed in the sunlight, sparking deep brown highlights in his tousled hair.

Shirtless and muscular, the man was every inch a warrior. The day suddenly felt unseasonably warm.

Malak threw me a warm smile, and began walking closer.

"I don't believe I have met you before?" the man asked as he neared. His light brown eyes were intent on mine, and I inwardly damned the flush that scoured my cheeks. I was not used to such attention from a stranger, and I did not desire it.

He may be seven years older than me, but I have as much training as him. I am not a foolish girl to collapse into incoherence. There is no emotion; there is peace.

"I- I am Bastila Shan," I stammered, and my gaze dropped despite myself.

"Pleased to meet you, beautiful Bastila. I am Malak Devari." He caught my flailing hand, and raised it to his mouth. His lips were warm, almost hot. I looked back into his eyes nervously; they seemed to shine just for me. He winked, and then looked back to Revan. I followed his gaze, and saw the Jedi Knight glaring at us.

"Really, Mal?" she scoffed. "This is about that spacer on Chandrila, isn't it? I told you why. I told you it was a misunderstanding. I don't play these sorts of games, and frankly-" she shot me a pitying look. "-it should be beneath you, too. I thought we'd sorted these trust issues out years ago."

Her words dropped in the air like barbs, lingering even after the tempestuous knight turned on her heel and strode away. Ice formed hard and cold in my stomach, replacing the earlier glow. My gaze shot back to Malak, but he was frowning in consternation at her retreating back.

The deep emotion in his eyes gave the game away.

He loves her. And he is toying with me.

I snatched my hand away in outraged confusion. Malak glanced back at me and grimaced, perhaps in apology. Then he whirled around to chase after Revan.

"Revvie! Wait!" he groaned as he dashed off.

Kylah laid a hand on my shoulder. "He should not play with other people's emotions like that," she said softly. "A Jedi should not act so."

...

I sighed, and reopened my eyes.

I could have dealt with my present situation in a collected fashion, had Revan been assuming the identity of Jen Sahara fully. Like she had been on the Endar Spire. Back then, she had acted exactly like the real Jen Sahara would have; meek, shy and obedient. I felt a passing sense of sadness for the scholar, but there was nothing more we could have done. She simply did not want to live after what happened to her on Deralia.

But Revan is not Jen Sahara. Not anymore. The thought was terrifying, except that... there is light within her. Light that does not come from the shell of a dead scholar. I sense empathy when she looks at Mission. She risked herself to come to my aid on the swoop track.

I could not understand this enigma; either she was Jen or she was the Dark Lord. Yet she seemed to be acting like neither.

The only thing I knew for certain was that the planted personality was beginning to shake loose. I had to get her back to the masters.

Also, there was the ambush of the Endar Spire to think on, beyond the bitter loss of all those lives. How did Darth Malak deduce our location? Is it possible he knows we are tracking down the Star Maps... or even that Revan still lives? Our drop from hyperspace, near the Taris system, had been a refueling one. How had the Sith known we would be there?

I need guidance. And help. I shook my head in irritation, and stepped out of the unit. I am calm, I am serene. I am resolute.

Stress and tension had built up to a boiling point since I had first pulled Darth Revan from the burning wreckage of her flagship. Rationally, I forced myself to review the situation I was now in. I must lead this party to Dantooine as readily as possible. Revan aside, I knew that I myself needed time, guidance and recuperation.

I refused to let my fear overcome my judgment. I had to return to the others, calm and in control of the mission.

Somehow, I will get Revan to the masters.

xXx

Chapter Text

Mandalorian gambit

- Jen Sahara -

Our one-room apartment was starting to feel ridiculously cramped.

After pulling a face at the only bed, Mission had bluntly stated her desire to crash with the Beks for the night, flat-out ignored Zaalbar's howl of protest, and flounced outside with a flippant promise to return in the morning.

I couldn't help but feel a small measure of concern, even as I waved the upset Wookiee away to chase after her. I wasn't entirely sure how strictly his life-debt entailed him sticking to my side like a bad smell, but the Twi'lek kid surely needed his protection more than me right now.

Quit stressing. Mission's been scampering between the Upper and Lower City her entire life. She's savvy enough to avoid the gang fighting on her way to the Beks, and their stronghold should be well-guarded against any repercussions.

Besides, I had a different person to concern myself with.

Bastila. In many ways, she was everything I expected: uptight, snooty, and... and powerful. The way she'd caved in that tunnel above the swoop track- no doubt about it, Bastila Shan was quick to act when required. It was hard to believe she'd be held prisoner by a swoop gang of all things.

She was taking an inordinately long time in the tiny refresher. I supposed I couldn't blame her. No doubt, the Jedi was savouring her freedom, even if she was going to run us all out of hot water. The plumbing in the rundown apartment complex was notoriously short-lived even at the best of times.

Better than the sonics on most starships at any rate. I winced, rubbing my head as the side of it throbbed. The Endar Spire was the only starship I could recall, although with my riddled memory I had no idea what was in my past. Street Kid might have done her share of interstellar travel, and Evil Bitch was probably insane enough to believe she owned an entire armada.

I frowned, annoyed with myself, and deliberately forced my attention back to Bastila. Flashes of what felt suspiciously like grief cut through by hot anger kept throwing themselves into my head, and I knew the emotions were stemming from her.

It hadn't escaped me that Bastila would be able to sense my own state of mind in return. She'd wrangled a promise out of me to travel to Alderaan, just when I'd convinced myself to leave her and Flyboy to their own devices. If I travel to Alderaan, will Bastila really allow me to go my own way? She'd said she would. And Jedi did not lie - right?

But something told me not to trust her.

On the other hand, staying behind on Taris had little appeal. Brejik will know who I am by now. I'll have the Vulkars after me before too long. I can't be insane enough to want that. Leaving Taris is the smart choice.

And, despite everything, part of me wanted to have faith in Bastila Shan. She is a Jedi. She might be able to help me. Yet her very proximity with the mind-link suggested otherwise. On the outside, she seemed so poised, so composed - but our cursed bond told me different.

Fear. She'd been scared, earlier. I wasn't sure - but I thought it'd been when she'd looked at me. Though didn't that seem the most far-fetched thought of all? To think, a Jedi of Bastila Shan's ilk, afraid of me? Bastila sodding Shan! Hero of the frelling Jedi Order and Republic war effort!

Whatever was in my past, it couldn't scare a Jedi of her calibre.

Even if she is, apparently, still a padawan.

If I really was going to travel with her and Carth, I'd either have to come clean with my identity issues or do better with the façade. Maybe... maybe I should see that doc again. Zelka seemed to think he could help. At the close of everything, I wanted answers from Bastila - but I didn't want her to grasp the true nature of my fractured mind, either. I hadn't even been able to fool Onasi into believing I was no more than a shy scholar from Deralia, and we shared neither a history nor a bond.

The man in question looked up from the datapad he was perusing, likely scanning the news-feeds for any pertinent info. He eyed me over as I stretched aching limbs and threw him a tired smirk.

We had our black moments, but for some reason teasing Carth usually made me feel better.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Jen," he said in a low tone. "I- uh, thanks. I might not, well, care for your ethics, but I'm not blind to everything you've accomplished. Without you, I daresay Bastila would still be a prisoner, and I- uh, I guess I'd probably still be bumbling around the Upper City."

There was so much I could do with that stuttering statement. "Ethics?" I settled for, letting my smirk widen. "What have I done now?"

His brows lowered. "Let's not turn this into an argument, alright?"

"Hey!" I raised my hands in mock surrender, even though I knew my grin gave the game away. "What did I say?"

Carth glared at me, but I wondered if I saw the edge of his mouth quirk. I smiled at him sweetly. "Come on, Flyboy, you can't make a dig at my moral character and get away with it."

"Want to wager on that?" He'd folded his arms, staring at me steadily.

"Five creds?" I offered, grinning. "Spill, Flyboy. I won't let up, you know."

Carth sighed, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Look, I-I didn't mean anything by it, really. Just-" and here he stopped to shoot me a glare. "You're the one walking out on an employment contract, sister."

My amusement vanished like free spice shots at a spacer's joint. I could feel myself glaring back. "Oh. That," I snapped. The frelling contract. It didn't sit right. It didn't seem right. My head was telling me the Jedi contract was watertight - a guardianship of sorts despite my age - and I'd meekly auto-printed my own autonomy away without a second thought.

No. Jen did that, not me. The burn of anger was familiar, and all too enticing. "Three years," I hissed. "Let me ask you, Onasi, would you willingly serve the Jedi for three years?"

"No," he shot back shortly. "But I wouldn't be stupid enough to sign it in the first place."

Carth turned away from me, pointedly bending back over his datapad as a means of ending the conversation. I felt the dull flush of emotion heat my cheeks, and wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment.

Beholden to the damn Order for three years. But the entire memory of signing that contract felt discordant - wrong. I hadn't even thought on it since I'd left the 'Spire, and wasn't that strange in itself? When Bastila had thrown it in my face like a barbed nitro-dart, the recollection of the job offer had slammed into my consciousness with the precise detail of a holo-recording. The cold blast of the air-con, the hard-edged chair biting into my back, the foreign sense of awe at what was an amazing career opportunity-

But didn't Jen want to be a history teacher on Deralia? An occupation far beneath her skills, but Jen had never desired to leave her homeworld. I might've assumed some form of compulsion at work, had it not been for her nascent excitement-

I swallowed. Maybe it was a deeper compulsion that I knew. Or maybe, the fractures of my mind were devolving into paranoia at absolutely everything.

But- but I could sharply remember saying a soft farewell to my proud father. He'd never willingly let me leave, he'd barely even let me leave the commune to study at the Academia every rest day-

Not my father. My teeth clenched suddenly. Jen's father.

Still, everything about Jen's life from that moment on seemed almost... artificial. I didn't even know how I'd travelled to the conference room to meet with the Order - but then, suddenly, I was on the Endar Spire, meekly reading through any ancient archives that hefty Cerean master had thrown at me.

It was all so - fragmented. Like the rest of my memory? Maybe. Maybe it was the missing pieces that made my history so nonsensical, to the point where I simply didn't know what was real anymore.

Zelka mentioned hypnotic techniques might aid me. Last thing I wanted was someone else messing up my mind - but maybe he could help. Maybe he could make some sense out of everything. Maybe, what I needed was a neutral, third-party professional-

Yeah, because a doc playing shop in a frelling Free Clinic is really going to be a professional. Ten creds say he dropped out of Med School, and a poorly paid governmental hack-job is the only thing he could find-

The thin plimsi hatch to the refresher swished open, then, billowing out a cloud of steam and Bastila Shan herself. My thoughts ceased with abrupt wariness.

She threw me a tentative smile. Bastila was clad in a ragged tunic Carth had picked up from a stall earlier, which looked about three sizes too big for her, and didn't nothing but emphasize her youth. Her damp hair clung to her neck, and her expression showed nothing but a struggling attempt at friendliness.

I couldn't make her out. Was she a Jedi who could help me, or a guard?

"Perhaps it is time to discuss where we are at with leaving Taris," Bastila said, her voice prim as she stepped over to the sole bunk and hesitantly lowered herself to sit down. She looked so out-of-place, posture stiff and back ram-rod straight, flawless skin like she'd never spent a day in the sun, face with the fine bones of an aristocrat-

She is out-of-place, here, a fugitive hiding out in the arse-end of the Upper City. Bastila Shan has probably never been anywhere without a Jedi entourage and a high-end suite of rooms to fall back on.

Carth had slowly lowered his datapad to face her. "Uh, well, we don't really have a plan as of yet," he conceded, mouth quirking in a self-deprecating smile.

Bastila's slanted eyes widened in surprise. "What have you been doing all this time then?" she demanded.

I had to stifle a chuckle. Whoever said the Jedi were reasonable? "We were rescuing you, Bastila," I told her dryly.

"I would have expected one of you to have the sense to think ahead," she snapped, throwing me a slight frown.

With mounting amusement, I watched the dark clouds of irritation coalesce on Carth's face. For once, it wasn't me annoying the frell out of him. I inwardly wagered he mentally stuffed us both in a box labeled Difficult Women, and had to bite back a snicker at the thought.

"Bastila, don't you think you're being a little unfair?" Carth said firmly, levelling her with the hard stare of a superior confident of his own position. I could hear the faint echoes of command in his voice - disapproval, edged with an expectation that she would back down. He wasn't bad at that sort of thing, actually - even if it did normally tempt me into yanking his chain.

Outrage pinked high on the porcelain cheeks of the Jedi. She wasn't used to being questioned, at least not in front of others. No. Not the battle meditation princess of the Order.

"Unfair?" Bastila gasped. "Force, you two have been here for weeks, free and able to traverse around Taris at will, and you have not yet even begun to formulate an escape strategy?"

Again, I had to bite back a choked laugh. Seeing the young, uptight Jedi on the verge of throwing a hissy fit at a war-seasoned veteran bordered on the hilarious.

A stony look settled deep into Carth's brown gaze. "We have been spending all our time and resources in formulating a plan to extract you, Bastila. Or you have conveniently forgotten that the very reason you are here, free, is because of that?"

Bastila stood, her chin lifting as she stared stubbornly back at Carth. "Do not be preposterous. I was in the process of freeing myself at that ridiculous event. Captain Onasi, do not forget that I am your commander, and if I believe there is need for a discussion on your lack of progress, then I shall certainly say so!"

"We're not on the Endar Spire anymore, Bastila!" Carth's voice had risen with heat, too. "We're stuck deep in enemy territory, and quibbling about who is in charge hardly makes you a good leader. Particularly when you act like a spoiled child!"

I took in the scene: Carth, arms folded, glowering dangerously from underneath that ridiculous mop of rich chestnut hair. Bastila, affronted, hands propped up on hips in bristling anger.

I burst out laughing. I clapped my hand over my mouth instinctively, but it was too late. Bastila's mouth dropped open in outrage; Carth stared at me in disbelief.

"Better than a holo-soap, you two," I guffawed. "And here I thought Carth and I were bad!"

Bastila's mouth snapped shut with a click. "This is no laughing matter-" she began through clenched teeth.

Carth snorted. The corner of his mouth was twitching. "Jen's right. Maybe Taris will spin off its axis at the event, but Jen is actually right for once. We're both behaving like children." He shot me a rueful grin. "I blame your influence."

I fired a smirk back at him. "Thanks. I try to keep things interesting around here, Flyboy."

"Well, I-" Bastila looked at both of us, blinking, as if the sudden turn to amusement completely caught her off-guard. She sighed heavily, her eyes dropping closed. "Perhaps- perhaps I am not quite myself," she said, in a much quieter voice. "And perhaps I should not be so quick to judge. I apologize, Carth."

A heavy knock at the door halted any response from the Republic pilot.

In a lightning quick move, Carth had his blasters aimed while I catapulted towards our growing stash of vibroswords in the corner.

"Who could that be?" Bastila whispered. "Who knows where are here?"

The heavy weight of the common blade felt reassuring in my grip. I strode closer to the door, mind racing.

"No one," Carth replied in a low voice. "Other than Mission and Zaalbar, who would not knock."

"No, she'd slice her way in," I muttered. The knock, loud and heavy, sounded again.

I looked back at the others, only to find them both staring at me. I shrugged, turning back to the door. "Who's there?" I called out.

"(I am looking for Jen Sahara)," a gruff, deep voice called out in Mandalorian.

My eyes narrowed. Canderous Ordo, or I'm a frelling Mon Calamari. He's come for Bastila. I held my vibrosword at the ready, aware of the other two edging close behind me. What are the chances he's come alone?

"A Mandalorian merc," I hissed. I had a quick look through the peephole, and my suspicions were founded; it was Canderous, although I didn't see any signs of backup - unless he had a couple of grunts hidden further down the corridor. "I think he's after Bastila. I doubt he's alone, so be prepared."

I heard Bastila gasp as I activated the entry switch.

Canderous stood in front of me, arms folded, a speculative look on his weathered face. He smirked as his gaze landed on my vibrosword, before it drifted behind to Bastila. His smirk deepened, and the look in his granite eyes changed to something I could only label as suggestive. "(Well done. I didn't think you'd get out of the Lower City alive)."

"Su'cuy," I muttered, keeping my vibrosword at half-mast. Something twitched in my head- no, through the bond. "(I'll take that as a compliment)."

"(You can put those away)," Canderous drawled, snapping his gaze back to me and motioning at my weapon. "(I've come with a proposition, not to cause a fight)."

"(She's not for sale)," I said shortly. In my mind, I felt the sharp tang of Bastila's indignant fury. Heh. Guess she understands Mandalorian. Carth, on the other hand, was probably seething with irritation at his inability to follow the conversation.

Canderous laughed heartily. "(If I was here on Davik's behalf, I wouldn't be offering credits, let me assure you)."

I dropped my blade, but didn't sheathe it. Whatever the merc wanted, I wasn't going to let him catch me off-guard. "(Fair point. So why are you here, Canderous?)"

His grey eyes bored into mine steadily; I returned his stare in equal measure. "(I'll be frank. I have been looking for an... ally, shall we say, to help me leave Taris. Your fighting skills have impressed me. You are also just a little bit crazy, which is exactly what I'm looking for)."

I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise, and tasted wariness from Bastila.

"(Why do you think I want to leave Taris?)" I asked mildly.

He snorted, and gave Bastila another obvious once-over. "(You don't really expect me to bother with a reply, do you?)"

I inclined my head in acquiescence. "(Why do you want to leave Taris, then?)"

It could be a trap. Sun and stars, it probably is a trap. I already know Davik wants to get his claws on Bastila, and Canderous is his henchman. I kept my face blank as another thought occurred to me. But is that really my problem?

"(My employer hasn't been paying me what he promised)," Canderous explained. "(You've probably figured out I work for Davik Kang and the Exchange. It's beneath me, but the pay kept me around for awhile. Now, though...)"

He trailed off as I grinned in response. That sounds plausible - if it's true. What kind of idiot cheats a Mandalorian and then doesn't kill him?

Canderous' lip curled. "(I figure it's time for me to break the Sith quarantine and get off this backwater planet. I've got a plan to escape Taris, but I can't do it alone)."

Well. This may have come at the best possible time. How fortuitous - if he's sincere.

"What's your plan, then?" I said, switching to Basic. This was important enough that Carth needed to follow the conversation - even if frustrating the flyboy was a temptation all on its own.

Canderous looked vaguely surprised at the change in language, but followed my lead. "I can get access to Davik's flagship - the Ebon Hawk. However, any ship leaving the atmosphere without launch codes will be disintegrated by the Sith fleet's automated defense guns. That's where you come in."

Launch codes. That can only mean one thing-

Carth snorted. "You want us to infiltrate the Sith base?" he asked in palpable incredulity. "How crazy do you think we are?"

"I ain't talking to you." Canderous turned heavy-lidded eyes on Carth. "I'm talking to your friend, ain't I?"

"He has a point, though," I interjected. "Breaking into the Sith base is tantamount to suicide. Add the fact that I don't know you enough to trust you, and I don't really see why I should help you out here."

"It would be simply preposterous to attempt an assault on the Sith base!" Bastila gasped, weighing in.

"I ain't yapping to you either, princess." Canderous threw her a contemptuous glare before turning back to me. "Can't say I think much of your friends. Look, I'm not big on working with strangers, either, but we both want to get off this rock." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "I can give you some help with the Sith base."

"You want to join us?" I asked, turning speculative.

Canderous grinned at me, and it was a feral sight. "Normally nothing would stop me from a good, clean fight, but I'm too well recognized, even around the Sith. Word would get back to Davik. I can, however, point you towards a top of the line astromech droid that can get you inside the base."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't suppose you can acquire me a droid that will also get us out?"

Canderous barked a laugh. "You'll have to accomplish that on your own. If you want the droid, go to Janice Nall and ask for Davik's special project. Tell her Canderous sent you, and she'll be as sweet as mola-syrup." He eyed me over again. "Either we work together, or we both stay stuck here on Taris. I'll give you two days to act on this. If you don't, then consider the offer withdrawn. I'll be at Javyar's cantina in the evenings." He turned to leave, throwing one last comment over his armoured shoulder. "A word of caution. Make this a stealth op, or at least cover your tracks. Maybe you can bluff your way in under the pretense of seeing the governor, if you can't find an alternate form of entry. Just make sure those hu'tuun Sith don't realize the codes are compromised, or else they'll change them quicker than you can say 'escape from Taris'."

He left, as abruptly as he'd arrived.

I switched the door closed, my thoughts racing. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to follow the Mandalorian's plan. I can't trust him... but stars, I can't trust anyone.

Might be a useful bit of exercise, slaughtering a few random Sith. I swallowed, forcing the callous thought away. Any soldiers in the base were just sents doing a job. People, just like anyone else. Grunts. Fodder.

"I do not sense any deception from him, which is surprising," Bastila said quietly. Her cool voice sliced through my dark-edged thoughts, and I clung to the sound like a life-line. "If he can procure us access to a ship, then this may be precisely the lead we require."

I drew in a shaky breath, feeling my mind clear, and nodded at her slowly in agreement.

Carth, however, was shaking his head. "I've got a bad feeling about this. You can't trust mercenaries, and you certainly can't trust Mandalorians." Carth grimaced. "This isn't a good idea."

But it's our only plan to leave Taris so far. "It can't hurt to check out that droid," I said slowly. "Unless either of you have a better plan?"

Carth frowned. "I wish I did. Jen, why did you think he was after Bastila?"

"Good question," Bastila threw in.

I grimaced, glancing away from them both. "I saw Canderous at the swoop track. He let slip that Davik was interested in acquiring her."

Bastila's face remained blank, even composed. But the lightning-quick thrust of fury that blasted through our mind-link surprised me. Her anger... her anger feels as hot as mine. A nanosec later, and all I could sense was serenity.

Bastila's ability to switch her emotions on and off like a tap was impressive. And probably emotionally unhealthy, a voice in my head muttered.

"And we're really going to go along with his plan, then?" Carth asked heatedly. "If he was after Bastila before, what makes you think he's suddenly changed his colours?"

"I am not sure we have the luxury of caution, Carth," Bastila said, a trifle hesitantly. "I believe Jen is right. We should at least investigate the droid tomorrow."

Carth sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. I suppose seeing what the droid can do won't hurt, at least."

xXx

It was already close to evening, by Tarisian time, when the Mandalorian had left.

Carth was quick to rustle up a meagre meal of flatbread and protein paste, of which Bastila wolfed down in three minutes flat before openly eyeing up the only bed.

"Take it," I said quickly. Her gaze was guarded as it met mine, and I threw her a tight smile in response. "I'm fine with sleeping on the floor."

Not that I'm going to sleep. I had things to do, and places to be - but she didn't need to know that.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, but I could hear the relief in it. It made me, once again, yearn to talk to her properly, to ask for her guidance, to trust her-

I turned away, gritting my teeth. I couldn't trust her. Not until I knew more about- about- everything.

We bedded down for the night, Carth and I both curling up on the floor under threadbare blankets that were more for comfort than warmth. I was tired, though, and the aching lassitude present in my limbs reminded me that rest was something I'd been running well-short on.

I don't seem to need much sleep. It was a surprising realization; when I looked back on the time I'd spent on Taris, a few hours kip seemed to be all I required to keep functioning for a full day's cycle.

Still, I'd fall into slumber easy enough if I let my mind drift. Which I was not going to do.

Carth's breathing patterns dropped into slow, steady respirations quickly enough - military grunts were well-versed in catching a few winks whenever they could. Bastila, however, stayed awake longer than I expected.

I could feel the edges of her presence, now, through the bond I was slowly becoming accustomed to sensing. She was tense, wary, and I wasn't about to chance letting her catch me slip away. It took a great deal of concentration to keep my thoughts blanked and my breathing regular, but slowly, slowly, she drifted off into the realm of the semi-conscious.

As quietly as I could, I rose to my feet.

A vibrosword and my small pack is all I need. I left the apartment, my primary destination being that of the Free Clinic. Zelka better be able to help me out, here. Help me figure out what I should do. Who I am. How to control my own frelling state of mind.

Jedi contract or not, I had no qualms about disappearing if I thought it in my best interests.

I had another reason for visiting Zelka, though. That serum was burning a hole in my pocket - I hadn't forgotten about that. A thousand creds. That'd certainly help me out, whether I stay on Taris or slip away on Alderaan.

It'd help a whole lot of sents out, too, if I gave it to Zelka. I had no idea, yet, which way I was going to turn on the matter of the rakghoul disease.

Oh well. Guess I'll play it by ear. That approach has worked for me so far, after all.

xXx

Chapter Text

Journey of the mind

- Zelka Forn -

 The woman was lying on the medical bed, eyes closed and face slack. I could feel perspiration dripping down the sides of my face; it had been gruelling getting her into a suggestible trance. I'd abandoned using solely centralizing techniques, and had resorted to the aid of calming synthetics to get her this far.

It goes against my medical instincts to use drugs. But she had been desperate for help. Desperate enough to get me out of bed, in the middle of the night. And the trust simply wasn't there; she did not or could not subsume into a semi-conscious state, so the depressant had been required simply to allow her mind to relax.

None of this would be so damnably rushed, if Taris had a decent healthcare system. But the corrupt xenophobic planet only catered to the rich and the Exchange. To think there’d been a time when things were worse than now - once, before the dawn of the Mandalorian Wars, we didn’t even have free clinics. I’d been training as an orthopaed then, and still recalled the flock of renegade Jedi who briefly transformed the health and education systems within Taris.

Now, the four remaining Free Clinics were about the only surviving remnant their visit.

We had no damn specialists for the masses. I was lucky, coming from a wealthy background, my zeal and resources enabled me to study snatches of various other medical fields. Even psychoanalysis garnered a minor interest from me, primarily since mental health services were one of the least available to Tarisians with no credits. But in all honesty, I muddled along and merely did the best I was able to. For most citizens, that meant just getting them on their feet to face another day.

I looked back down to Jen Sahara, and hoped I would be able to find the origin of her anger, as she had explained it to me. She desired the ability to control her unwanted rage; that, however, was plainly impossible without exploring the root cause and reason for it in the first place. Hence we attempt regressive hypnotism. It wasn't something I had a wealth of experience of; only a snippet of study and three prior patients filled my repertoire on this area of medical knowledge.

But I shall try my best to help her.

My attention caught on the console's chrono next to the bed, and I realized how little time it was before sunrise.

“Alright, Jen. You are sitting alone in the middle of a field, next to a gently trickling river. The sun is beating down on your head, and you feel totally at peace. Nothing can hurt you here.” I took in a deep breath. It was time to begin. “I am going to ask you some questions, Jen, and I want you to answer as truthfully as you are able. Anytime you are feeling too scared or angry, you will retreat to this place. Any time I call out 'Stop', you will immediately arrive back here as well, calm and emotionless. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she responded quietly, almost mechanically.

“Okay Jen, I want you to think about the head injury you sustained. Take your mind back to five minutes before it occurred. What were you doing?”

“I was sleeping, dreaming,” Jen replied in a soft voice.

“Move forward five minutes, Jen. Were you conscious at the time of your accident?”

“Darkness,” she murmured. “Bad dreams. I can see people dying!” Her voice rose in panic.

“It's just a dream, Jen, it's not really happening,” I said soothingly. The accident occurred whilst she was asleep, then. Perhaps it brought on a nightmare.

“No, it's not a dream! I died! The Sith killed me! They, they tortured me until I-”

"Stop," I said abruptly, and the woman paused, panic melting away from her face. The Sith? I did wonder who she was running from. If they tortured her, perhaps they broke her mind as well. But she seems fairly coherent when awake. I frowned.

“I want you to now recall when you first woke up after your injury. Where are you?”

“I don't know.” Her voice had changed. I blinked. Instead of a high-pitched, panicked tone, it was now lower, sultry, and eons more confident. My frown deepened. Why would her voice change? She continued speaking- “some sort of cruiser. A Hammerhead-class. But I haven't been conscious for a long time.”

She drifted off into silence and I wondered if she’d been convalescing after a long injury. After moments had passed, I prompted, “Jen?”

“No, no wait, I'm a scholar, onboard a Republic starship,” she mumbled, her voice shaking. “Yes, that's right, I've been hired to look at some ruins.” Her voice had lilted again, back to the higher-pitch from earlier.

I breathed in deep, partly in shock. First the Sith, now the Republic? She was one of the Republic fugitives, I realized with some wonder. I must help her as best as I am able. The local news-feeds were littered with offers of compensation for information leading to the capture of any Republic personnel, and descriptions of high-ranking officers still made the headlines. If she’s just a scholar, though, then she’ll have a little more anonymity.

My gaze slid over to the entrance of the clinic. A good thing she'd arrived out of hours, when Gurney wasn't here. I was well aware of my assistant's slippery nature, and knew he'd have no qualms about turning a Republic citizen over to the Sith.

Again, I cursed the corrupt organization who ruled Taris. The Sith or the Exchange - it wasn't like either quasi-government ever did anythingÂof note for the people. I'd been one of many who'd hoped, after the Mandalorian bombardment years ago, that Taris might actually be offered a place in the Republic. Pull out from beneath the yoke of the corrupt elite who were no more that puppets, really- doing whatever the controlling power told them to, under the pretense of their dubious station as elected politicians.

Of course, only citizens could vote - and only Humans with wealth could become citizens.

A place in the Republic seemed little more than a pipe-dream, these days.

"That can't be right!" Jen murmured, pulling my attention back to her. "That's not me."

I stared at the woman. "What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

“I’m no scholar,” she whispered. “I don’t know who I am, but I’m no scholar.”

I stayed quiet for some moments, gazing at the prone woman in front of me, and wondered what clues I could derive from her appearance. She was in her early- to mid-thirties, perhaps, with short dark curls cropped close to her head, and a pale olive skin tone with no obvious tan.  I recalled her piercing green gaze from earlier, and she’d struck me as confident and quick-witted in our short encounters thus far.

She was moderately tall, and her form was lithe, bordering on skinny – either she was not the physical type, or she’d been sorely out of practice for one reason or another. My gut told me it was the latter. Her stance, her alertness, and not to mention her injuries – it all adds up to a life of action, not study.

But that wasn’t conclusive by any means – plenty of scholars were athletes or soldiers as well.

“Alright, Jen, I do not want you to relive this, but simply answer the question. Can you tell me whether the Sith have ever captured you before?”

“Y-yes. They destroyed my h-home, everything...” Her voice had switched again, back to the trembling, high tone, and trailed off into shaky silence.

“You are in a green paddock, next to a river. The sun is shining on your head, and nothing can hurt you here,” I reminded her gently. “You are not reliving your memories; you are simply answering my questions. Can you remember what happened when the Sith captured you?”

“No, Jen has a mindblock,” the confident tone answered. Surprise lurched through me, and I stared blankly at the prone woman. A mindblock? Why would the Sith block the mind of a prisoner they were torturing? That doesn't make any sense! I frowned. Perhaps the mindblock is something she created herself, to block out the trauma?

But why did she answer in the third person?

“Did the Sith create the mindblock?” I asked.

A deep snarl ripped out of her throat, and I jumped backwards in surprise. “No, it was those interfering robes who think they can leash me to that trumped-up scow! I will rip their entrails-”

“Stop!” I called desperately, feeling fearful for the first time. That was a third voice! And one I certainly didn't want to hear again. Full of loathing, hate, anger.... what's going on here? I had a duty to help this woman to the best of my abilities, but.... Peace, if this isn't going to be difficult! I was more and more uncertain of how to proceed. I need to know more of her history, to understand where this rage is coming from.

“You are back in the summer field. You are safe. Can you tell me when your home was attacked?”

“Eight years ago.” Assertive voice was back. “The Mandalorians slaughtered everyone on Talshion. We could have stopped them. We should have been there!” Grief and resentment darkened her tone.

Mandalorians? I frowned, growing more confused. Talshion was unfamiliar to me, whether it was a city or port or planet. But I, like all Tarisians, had had as much exposure to Mandalorian brutality as the Sith. “I thought you said it was the Sith, Jen?”

“The Sith killed everyone!” Scared girl cried. “My father! They're going to kill me, too!”

"Stop!" I commanded, my brow furrowing. Dissociative idenitity disorder? It was a possibility, particularly given the different timbre of voices she used. This situation was getting worrisome; if only Taris had a psychoanalyst attached to the Free Clinics then I'd stop right now. But Jen was a Republic fugitive, and I could only do my best to help her stay sane enough to either leave Taris or find a safer hiding place. For that, I needed to understand her better. “You are safe; no one can hurt you.” I took in a deep breath. “Can you tell me a bit about your childhood?”

“I was a street kid,” the woman replied, and I heard echoes of amusement in her tone. “We were lucky, far too many times, really. We'd sneak into places, and steal creds and food. I had no one, you see, and Mal only had his brother. Sometimes I’d go hungry, and eat grubs with old man Freeflight. He was my first teacher, really, only thing I had close to a parent. But I always dreamed of leaving Talshion, to fly amongst the stars.” She sounded wistful. I knew too many people like that, born in poverty and starved for life. Starved for more things than just food.

“You mentioned you were a scholar? What did you study?”

“Everything,” she said. I looked down to see a faint smirk on her face. “Politics, history, sparring, meditation. Anything I could find in the archives, any training I could wrestle out of Yudan. Mal even tricked Zhar into acquiring him starpilot lessons, and I never knew how he got away with that one. But we were so old when they took us away from our home. They said we were too powerful to ignore. We never saw our friends again.”

Who are they?

Whoever took her away probably had something to do with her current issues. “How old were you when you were taken away from your friends, Jen?”

“I wasn’t, they k-killed my friends! M-my family! They hurt me, and k-kept hur-”

“Stop!” I interrupted sharply, and then the air in my lungs rushed out as I came to a startling conclusion: everything time I call her Jen, she responds as the scared girl. I closed my eyes, and rubbed my balding head tiredly.

I’m not qualified for this.

“You are safe,” I said gravely. “You can smell the fresh grasses around you. No one is around; no one will harm you.” I sighed. “What is your name?”

She paused for a long moment, her forehead etched in deep furrows. “I’m not sure,” she whispered finally, so quiet that I couldn’t pick which voice she was responding with. “I think it might be Jen Sahara.”

She hasn’t given herself a fake name, then. That was promising, at least. I’d read of some cases where sentients with split-personality disorders fabricated a whole other life in such detail that it may as well have been a real person. She will believe they are both real. I cannot lose sight of that. It was up to me to figure out the truth. Which persona was legitimate: the shy scholar who responded to her name, or the confident street kid who apparently studied everything?

That made me realize I hadn’t asked about Jen’s field of expertise yet.

“What did you study, Jen?”

“Ancient archaeology and anthropology,” came the quiet response.

“Can you tell me a bit about your study, Jen?”

"I-I, okay. I completed a thesis on the founding and early days of the Republic, when it only encompassed Core worlds. My special interest is the extinction of ancient civlizations, though... I've started a second thesis on the reign of the latter Massassi, with the intention of exploring the theories surrounding the collapse of their people."�

While little of that meant anything to me, it was not overly difficult to prod more details from the woman. There was enough depth and discourse, there, to convince me that she definitely was an academic. Her shy voice began to take on a slight enthusiastic lilt to it. But Jen Sahara readily admitted that she had never partaken in any field trip, never travelled to an excavation site - although I was no archaeologist, I would have expected some practical element to her study.

It seemed like Jen Sahara's entire life had been one of isolated learning from within the commune she had been born into.

“Can you tell me what your childhood was like, Jen?”

“It was quiet. My father raised me. I lived in a small community, and wanted to be a history teacher when I grew up.”

Jen's life sounded- well, normal. A bit mundane, and perhaps that was why she’d created the exciting street kid with the fantastical study habits. Don’t assume too much, Zelka, I admonished myself. I cannot rule out the validity of the street kid, yet.

But I was beginning to doubt.

“Did you have a happy childhood, Jen?”

“No. I was very lonely. My father was quite protective, and didn't let me meet many people.”

Perhaps she was so lonely and shy, that she created a more confident alter ego? It was time to find out more about that one, then.

“How old were you when you were taken away from your friends?” I asked, an echo of my earlier question, but this time omitting her name.

“I was sixteen,” Street Kid replied.

“Were you kidnapped?”

“Well, in a sense, really. They were nice about it, I mean, but it's not like we had a choice. Mal saw that, even if I only saw the opportunity.”

“Who is Mal?”

“My best friend.” Her voice turned unbearably sad, and then I heard it contort with dark fury. “My betrayer. He’s ruined everything. He dares to backstab-”

“Stop!” I called out sharply. “You are back amongst the grass and flowers again, one hand dipping in the trickling water of the peaceful stream. You are safe.”

Street Kid is unstable, I understood then. Jen’s made up a fake, confident persona, and funneled all her rage into it. Perhaps it’s anger or resentment at being shy and overlooked, or maybe it’s from the trauma of whatever the Sith did to her. I couldn’t know in one session, but as I looked up through the plasticeel windows and saw the pink flush of dawn, I knew I had to give Jen some assistance in dealing with the present.

“When were you first aware of the anger and rage inside you, Jen?”

“When I woke up with a head injury, on the Endar Spire.”

And I still have to work out how the Republic fit into her life.

“And you didn't have these outbursts at all before this time?” I asked Street Kid.

“I wasn't aware. I thought I was Jen. She's not real; they'd programmed her into my head to make me more biddable.”

She yearns for confidence. She wants to feel important, so she's created a more exciting identity - and a reason for why Jen doesn't exist.

I had a friend, a neuroscientist, Engar Droone, who'd studied more psychology and psychiatry than I. Of course, he sold his wares to the upper crust, and I found it hard to disguise my disapproval. It had created a wedge between us, where once professional camaraderie has existed. But maybe, maybe I could still reach out. Ask him for a favour. Engar's expertise certainly exceeded mine in this area.

The woman snarled, then, and I realized she was still in the throes of answering my query. “I was trapped. They dared to cage me!” Her voice had lowered further, into that dangerous tone I'd heard once before.

"Stop," I commanded. I need to find out who she resents so much. "Who caged you?"

“Why did they cage me?” Street Kid was back, but she wasn’t answering. “Why did they save me? I… I can’t handle this. It’s all been such an unmitigated failure, everything I strived to do! It would be easier to, to…”

“To what?” I whispered, unable to stop the question from slipping out.

“To reclaim my heritage, you weak-minded moron!” she yelled furiously. Her face twisted in an evil sneer, abruptly slackening when I yelled out: “Stop!”

And then, her face crumpled, and without me saying anything I heard her whisper: “No, it's easier to just play along with them. To be the shy girl they want.”

She should not still be talking! But maybe, just maybe, we were nearing the core of the issue. “Who wants?” I asked softly.

“My captor. My rescuer. Don't they realize, they should have just killed me?” the voice broke, and her shoulders sagged. “Death would be a release.”

I am in way over my head.

"Stop," I whispered, and she was quiet once more.

So much for finding the root of her problems. I am more lost than before. Sweat beaded my forehead, and I felt directionless. How do I proceed from here?

The door opened quietly, and Gurney popped his head around the corner. Taris certainly didn't offer me a grand selection of trainee medics; I had to make do with what was available.

Gurney's curious gaze landed on Jen. I stiffened. He can’t find out she came from the escape pods, or I may as well hand her over to the blasted Sith myself.

"Yes?" I asked sharply. And why didn't he knock?

"You got a patient at the door, doc," Gurney drawled. One eyebrow raised, like he'd noticed my short tone.

I nodded, forcing myself to relax, forcing myself to smile at the man. "I'll be out in a minute."

Gurney disappeared, and I turned back to survey Jen Sahara once more.

The way her street kid persona had stopped responding to my guidance... the unstable rage that seemed a part of this presumably artificial character... it would do Jen no favours, not while hiding as a fugitive from the Sith. I shall need to see her many times. This will not be a quick treatment. If I can convince Engar to advise... Perhaps he would be prevailed upon. But for the time being, I had to help Jen Sahara remain safe. And in control of who she really was.

"Are you staying with friends, Jen?"

"I- yes."

My curiosity was burning, despite my training. Were her friends also fugitives? Were the Sith, also, after them? But such knowledge was dangerous. The Sith had audited the Free Clinic more than once. Demanding details of patients, of clients, of call-outs... I did not log all the work I did. But with an assistant as untrustworthy as Gurney, some days I felt like it was only a matter of time before the Sith closed me down.

Or worse.

The sound of chatter filtered in from the outer room: Gurney, welcoming the next patient. With a heavy heart, I acknowledged that we were out of time. For today.

“You are Jen Sahara,” I stated. “The other thoughts and personality are not real, and they are not you.”

“I cannot be Jen,” she whispered, confused.

“This is who are you, you must accept it and not let your anger control you, Jen. You must stay safe, and hidden, and we will work this through together. Stay safe as Jen Sahara.”

“Stay as Jen Sahara?” the response was so quiet, I barely heard.

“Yes. You are Jen Sahara.”

“I am Jen Sahara,” she mumbled.

“Yes, you are. I want you to wake up out of this trance, and feel relaxed and refreshed after a count of three. You will consciously recall nothing of our conversation, but you will wake knowing yourself as Jen Sahara.” I counted, and the woman opened dazed, confused eyes. I laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she cringed.

“How are you feeling, Jen?”

“Wh- what's going on?” Her green eyes were fearful.

Worry coursed through me. “You are in a medical facility on Taris, Jen. Do you remember?”

“I-I, yes, I guess. I think. Nothing seems quite real.” She bit her lip, and looked down shyly.

“Do you remember coming in here for hypnotism?” I asked softly. Concern punched deep into my gut. I’d been convinced that the shy scholar was the real person, but she’d come in as the street kid, I saw now. Which persona would help her hide from the Sith?

Had I done the right thing here? Doubt assailed me, and I frowned as I gazed at her.

“Oh! Yes, I do,” she said quickly. “Am I all better now, doctor?”

A small wave of relief mitigated my worry, but it didn’t disappear. “Not quite, Jen, but we'll get there. I need you to come back tonight, okay? In the evening, like you did this time. We have a lot of work to do to help you.”

She nodded, still not meeting my eyes.

“Promise me, Jen?” I prompted.

“I promise.” She looked up, and her innocent, nervous eyes struck me as strange. She was wary, desperate even, when she came in. But not shy.

“Oh! Is it daylight already?” She was looking at the chrono. “The others will be worried. I need to go.” She sat up, and slipped off the bed.

“Jen,” I forestalled her as she began walking away. “Come back today, if you can? I'm worried about you.”

She swallowed, and nodded once more. “Okay.” She frowned in concentration, and dragged a hand through her pockets. “Um, I think you might like this,” she offered, and thrust something into my hands. It felt like a hypoderm.

I stared after her in concern as she disappeared, without examining what she had given me. I need to access the medical databases, and read up on this disorder.

I am scared I may have just made things a whole lot worse.

xXx

Chapter Text

Infiltration

- Jen Sahara -

My head was spinning.

I scurried back to the apartments, stumbling over my own feet, nervously avoiding the gaze of any passing sentient as I rushed across the Tarisian courtyards. The Upper City of Taris gleamed with the trappings of wealth and civilization. There were no trees. Just durasteel and chrome and transparisteel everywhere, stretching forever into a faraway sky that was more washed-out and muted than any I had seen on Deralia.

This place was as foreign as the Endar Spire, and I hadn't been comfortable there.

What's been going on? The voice was a high-pitched whine in my head. My thoughts were a frightened jumble of fragments, tripping over themselves and spinning into a dizzying maelstrom. I hadn't been acting... normal since that horrifying attack on the Endar Spire.

I swallowed convulsively. Flashes of hair-raising adventures and crazy battles ran through my head like a horde of spooked Deralian hessi-calves. How did any of- of- of everything that has happened come to pass? I don't know how to fight!

I'd never seen a vibrosword before in my life. But I'd been wielding one, using it to stab into- into-

Sweat broke out on my forehead. My breath came in short, sharp gasps, thundering along with my heartbeat. The doctor. The doctor will help-

He was a trained professional. Doctor Forn had urged me to return, later today, and I rather thought I needed to. For my own peace of mind.

I have nothing to be alarmed about. All these strange thoughts I've been having, the frightening way I've been behaving- he'll help me. I just need to get back to safety, first, and then the doc will see me later.

I slunk back into the apartment building, evading the gaze of the resident aliens. Just being alone on this strange world was alarming. All I yearned for was to be back home, safely ensconced in the academia, or even back with Father-

He'll be desperately worried about me. At least I could count on him not hearing about the Endar Spire. Wide-band HoloNet coverage was severely discouraged in the Godsworn Commune, and only grudgingly allowed for scholarly purposes. And as for a commune inhabitant actually travelling off-world-

Sometimes, I couldn't believe Father had actually let me leave.

My thoughts were so awhirl, that I didn't even notice the body until I tripped over it.

I caught myself on the palms of my hands, rolling back into a ready crouch on instinct. Turned sideways, to see-

Dead eyes staring at me blankly. Round, dark eyes of a Duros who bore a blaster burn melting half his chest.

Victim of an Exchange take-out, a voice muttered calmly in my head. Idiots should've at least cleaned up their mess.

Horror turned in my gut. A desperate cry fell from my lips. Bodies, death, everywhere! This isn't real- none of this can be true-

I ran.

Everything was so surreal, so strange, so wrong. My eyes blurred as my feet padded desperately down the empty hallway. There'd been other deaths, deaths at my hand-

Innocent deaths-

That passerby I'd ruthlessly attacked. And- before- I'd somehow... lifted that Vulkar into the air. Fantasies. Nightmares. I can't use the Force!

Jen? Where are you?

Strange voices in my head. I'd had some delusion about sharing a mind-link with a Jedi, and what did that even mean?

Jen?

I was even hearing her voice in my mind! Jedi Shan, that powerful Force-user from the Endar Spire, the one who'd been taken prisoner-

And wasn't that a lark, someone gibed. Precious princess of the Order, held captive by a lowly swoop gang of all things-

I flinched. The dark voice fled, and I glanced up to see the apartment door in front of me. The hide-out we'd been taking refuge in. For we were Republic fugitives - Captain Onasi and Jedi Shan and myself - all striving desperately to avoid the notice of the Sith in a rundown living complex.

My entire life sounded like a poorly planned-out plot from one of those trashy holo-books that Father had always decried. I didn't think we were even paying anybody rent. Wasn't that illegal, not to mention immoral?

Jen!

The hatch control beeped in reassuring confirmation beneath my palm. Captain Onasi had programmed it with our autoprint, I knew that much - but I was at once assailed with the memory of slicing the thing open. That was nothing but pure insanity- I didn't know how to pick locks-

The entrance swished open.

Jedi Shan was sitting on the sole bed, head bowed, rich hair unbraided and pulled back into two tails. Her head jerked up at my entrance, and her expression contorted in fear.

"Jen!" she gasped, jumping to her feet.

Fear? Why would a Jedi be afraid?

I felt my shoulders shake as I stumbled inside. At least, around Jedi Shan, I would be safe.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, and whatever emotion I had seen on her face transformed back into poise. "Are you alright?"

"No," I whispered, looking down as the door closed behind me. My shoe scuffed against the tattered plyfoam floor. "Um, not really."

"What happened?" Jedi Shan breathed as she walked towards me. Her steps were cautious and slow.

"Nothing," I mumbled. The room was empty apart from us two. A heap of equipment was stacked in the corner, next to two folded blankets. My head throbbed; the echo of that injury back on the Endar Spire, the incident that had somehow turned me into- into someone else. I blinked, glancing up at the Jedi. "Where are the others?"

Jedi Shan's gaze was heavy; questioning, and pulling for answers I could not give. "Mission has ventured out to purchase the astromech droid. We are fortunate she can afford it. Carth accompanied her, although he was somewhat aggrieved that you had disappeared." Her voice was composed, apart from the slightest hint of reproach. "I understood from him that this is not the first time."

I blushed in furious embarrassment. I've been so rude to the captain. Why? What's wrong with me? He's a Republic officer, for Godsworn sake!

"Jen, where did you go?" Jedi Shan asked, and her voice was strangely compelling. I felt the strongest urge to tell her everything. She is a Jedi. I can trust her, and she can help me.

"I went to, uh, to see Doctor Forn," I answered quickly. "He works at the Central Free Clinic. He's been helping me."

Jedi Shan's almond-shaped eyes widened. "Helping you with what?" she demanded. The sharpness of her tone cut through the stagnant air.

"Um, to- um, control my anger," I mumbled. Jedi Shan was someone I could trust, I knew that much. "He was trying some hypnosis techniques, and said we made progress. I- er, I do feel more like myself, Jedi Shan."

If I believed in this fantastical mind-link, then the stunned astonishment I felt swirling through me would surely be coming from Jedi Shan. But it's not real. It is a fake construction of mine. Head injuries can do all sorts of things to a brain. I am Jen Sahara, nothing more and nothing less.

I have nothing to be alarmed about.

"Jedi Shan?" Bastila Shan replied with a touch of asperity, her face composed. "You can call me Bastila, you have certainly done so before."

I- had. And I certainly hadn't afforded her the respect someone like her deserved. "Okay," I said hesitantly.

"Jen, you must explain exactly what occurred at the medical facility." Bastila seemed to hesitate, a frown pleating on her pale brow. "You are my charge, and I sense a great change in you. You can trust me, Jen."

I did trust her. Jedi Shan would keep me safe.

Weak minded fool! A voice sneered inside my head. Bastila stumbled back a pace. No! You're not real! I won't listen to you!

The hatch behind us opened, and other voices shattered my internal chaos.

"I don't see why I can't tag along, it's my droid after all!" a girl complained. I spun around, to see a young blue Twi'lek glaring at a towering Wookiee. My eyes widened. Mission Vao. Zaalbar.

I'd met only a few Twi'leks in my life, and all onboard the Endar Spire. I'd certainly never even seen a Wookiee before. He appeared uncommonly fierce, tall and muscular and covered in snarled fur.

"(It's too dangerous!)" Zaalbar whined as he followed the teenage Twi'lek inside, ducking under the door's entrance. A small astromech droid wheeled in behind them, whistling at the girl.

I stumbled backwards, away from them. How can I understand Shyriiwook? I thought in anxious fright. Tremors wracked down my spine as other memories assailed me. And Mandalorian? And Ryl? A head injury can't do that! What's going on?

A warm hand pressed comfortingly into my arm; at my side, Bastila was staring at me steadily.

"It will be alright, Jen," she murmured, and her voice was reassurance itself. "I will help you, I promise. You will be just fine with me here."

I will be just fine with Jedi Bastila Shan, I realized.

Blithering idiot! The taunt was quieter now. I thought I caught a twitch on Jedi Shan's face, but when I turned to look, she was gifting me with a serene smile.

"It will be okay," she said softly.

It will be okay.

"Another midnight escapade, Jen?" The question was as disapproving as it was rhetorical. I glanced back, to spot the commanding presence of Captain Carth Onasi. He was levelling a heavy frown at me, raking a hand through his rich brown hair.

I flushed. "I, uh, I'm sorry." I mumbled, looking away.

"Oh great, back to the apologies," I heard him mutter. Humiliation writhed inside me; that I could disappoint a man I respected so much shamed me. Bastila's hand on my arm was an anchor through my awkward chagrin.

"Jen, tell Big Z that I'm coming along as well!" Mission complained, coming to stand in front of me. Her hands were clenched, and her face was set in an expression of pure teenage pique.

I blinked in surprise at her effusive demand. Who am I to tell a Wookiee anything? I glanced helplessly at Bastila. Oh my, did he really swear a lifedebt to me?

"You are too noticeable, Mission," Bastila said smoothly. "Your skills are useful, but non-Humans garner attention in the Upper City. The same rationale applies to Zaalbar. I will infiltrate the Sith base, along with Carth and Jen."

Infiltrate... infiltrate a Sith base? I stared fearfully at Bastila, but the Jedi's expression was resolute. But I can't- I can't fight!

Her fingers pressed into my upper arm as she leaned close. "Do not be alarmed, Jen," she whispered. "I will protect you."

"(I must go)," Zaalbar rumbled in discontent. "(I must guard Jen Sahara's back)." The Wookiee's black eyes were fierce underneath his shaggy brown fur. I was reminded, at once, of all those monstrous rakghouls down in the Undercity. He'd scythed through them- dispatched them as easily as a group of harmless tach.

The memories were fresh and raw and wholly unbelievable.

"It will be only us three, Zaalbar," Bastila repeated firmly. But Zaalbar was shaking his furry head in the face of her command. He was ready to protest further, and I realized - somewhat uncomfortably - that he was looking to me for guidance.

Lifedebt. He swore a lifedebt. How can brain damage transform me into the sort of violent warrior that produces a Wookiee lifedebt?

"We should do what Jedi Sh- uh, Bastila says," I stuttered.

"Jen," Mission squawked in alarm. "What's wrong with you?" The Twi'lek strode closer, frowning. One hand rose to push a set of tech-goggles higher back on her lekku. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing is wrong with her," Bastila countered, stepping in front of me. Her intonation brimmed with authority. "But I must speak with Jen alone, now, before we begin preparations for our forthcoming mission. Please excuse us."

And with that, Bastila motioned me imperiously into the tiny bathroom adjoining the apartment. It housed the refresher and a floor space of about three foot square. I blinked in surprise, dodged Carth's stare of consternation, and meekly followed her in.

xXx

The new droid that followed Mission about seemed very high-tech. When Bastila and I returned to the others - after an uncomfortable conversation where the Jedi became highly frustrated at my inability to recall much of my conversation with Doctor Forn - Mission had cornered me to espouse jubilantly about all of T3-M4's capabilities. We had droids back at the Godsworn Commune, but only medical and utility bots. I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at all the slicing and security functions this highly modified class-two astromech boasted.

Mission's enthusiastic spiel was interrupted eventually by Bastila, who was keen to get moving. I wasn't. The prospect of entering a Sith base was simply, frightening - for all that the Jedi's presence reassured me. Why, I wondered, couldn't we just stay on Taris, hiding in the apartment where it was safe?

Yeah, why not. It's not like the Sith are looking for us or anything. I shook my head, dispelling the strangely sarcastic voice.

Bastila was poking through the ominous pile of weapons on the apartment floor. She retrieved a double-bladed implement and hefted it thoughtfully. It was obvious the Jedi was at home wielding a melee weapon.

Just as it was obvious that I was not. The Godsworn commune was a pacifistic society; other than shiv-blades and standard kitchen utensils, I'd never held an edged blade before.

Except recently. Against the rakghouls. Against all manner of opponents.

Bastila was looking at me again, a steadying gaze of concern.

Maybe I'm possessed, I thought frantically. Maybe I'm having a mental breakdown.

Relax, Jen. Her voice rang in my mind. It will be okay. Trust in the Force. Her expression, her very sense of being, seemed to embodiment a state of serenity... and it did comfort me. Bastila smiled, before handing me a light blaster. I swallowed, and clipped it to my belt hurriedly.

"No blades," the captain broke in. "No unconcealed weaponry. Bastila, I heard the Sith are arresting citizens on sight that don't have permits. I'm not sure about the validity of that intel, but striding through the courtyards brandishing vibroswords isn't exactly keeping a low profile. We shouldn't risk it."

Captain Onasi was right - but I'd taken to hiding one underneath that bulky coat. Like some sort of ridiculous criminal-

"Jen," Mission began, stomping over and placing herself in front of me. "I helped in the Vulkar base. You know I did. I'm the one that bought Teethree-"

"Only blasters then," Bastila murmured in disappointment, before placing the double-blade back on the ground. "The Force is with us. Perhaps we shall not even need those."

"Mission, Bastila has a point about the Upper City," Carth said wearily. "And being a Tarisian, I rather think you know that already."

"(I don't like this any more than you, Mission)," Zaalbar added in a low voice. "(But this is not the place for us. Allow the others to do what they must)."

Mission's alien blue face twisted in a scowl, but she was looking at me as if I made all the decisions. I gave a tiny shake of my head, before dropping her gaze to glance back at Bastila.

"Fine!" the girl snapped petulantly. "Well, if I'm not needed, I'm gonna go skive back down-level, find someone who actually wants me around. Teethree, stay here and listen to Jen. She's the one who's been leading us all this time, after all."

Carth sighed. "Mission, don't go, we'll be back soon-"

With an irritated huff, the Twi'lek spun on her heel and stormed out.

"(I better follow her)," Zaalbar rumbled disconsolately. "(Even our path to the Lower City can be sighted by upworlders if Mission is not careful. I will ensure she returns)."

An uneasy silence descended on us after the large Wookiee left, and I felt strangely uneasy. I wasn't sure exactly what I'd done to earn the Twi'lek's ire, but I could only hope she wouldn't stay angry for long. My shoulders hunched as I noticed the captain staring at me in confusion.

"Come," Bastila commanded, standing protectively at my side. "I am beginning to feel a certain urgency to start moving." She was frowning, her gaze growing oddly distant. "I am uncertain if this is premonition or purely..."

She trailed off as the astromech wheeled closer, beeping jauntily at me. It's shiny dome swiveled, blue led lights twinkling as it tootled something in Binary.

"You need to do what Bastila asks," I told the droid hesitantly. "Bastila or Captain Onasi."

Bastila's smile at me was approving, but still- there was something watchful in her expression. "Let us depart," she said softly, before shooing Teethree out ahead of us. "I only hope we can accomplish this mission in stealth. I am not entirely sure we could handle a squadron of Sith guards."

"You'd be surprised what Jen can do," Carth commented, but his eyes on me were... worried. I glanced away.

"Regardless," Bastila continued. "I have faith that T3-M4's computer skills and my persuasion techniques will keep us out of any unnecessary bloodshed."

"Unnecessary bloodshed?" Carth scoffed, as I followed them out the door. "I'd like to think you're right, but we're breaking into a heavily guarded Sith base." His tone rose slightly with derision. "We'd better all be prepared to kill, if required."

"T3-M4 should be able to access the Sith mainframe from any terminal," Bastila replied quietly. "With the Force by our side, we may only have to reach one computer to achieve our goal."

"And you think it'll be unguarded?" Carth muttered under his breath.

I trudged behind them reluctantly as we made our way through the Upper City, and found myself walking beside the new droid. Despite it's rather... unethical list of capabilities, the little astromech appeared an innocuous sort. Teethree was a better name, I thought, than that mouthful of a model number Bastila insisted on using.

"Hi there, Teethree," I murmured. I'd always liked the utility droids back on Deralia.

"Beep! Beep-bop whoop," T3-M4 whistled at me. Aww, I wish I could understand the little fellow.

We lapsed into watchful silence as we crossed through the commercial sector. The place didn't seem so scary, now. Peaceful Tarisians strolled along the gleaming courtyards, as a weak sun beat down on our heads. It was hard to believe how different this world was, just metres below our feet.

I noticed one small squad of patrolling Sith guards, bedecked in anonymous black armour as they marched along the fringes of the thinning residents. I kept my gaze down after that.

"There it is," Carth broke the silence some time later, his steps slowing. Up ahead, in a relatively deserted cul-de-sac, loomed the entrance to a large complex bordered by obsidian pillars. "The Sith base. Used to be some noble's home before the Sith repurposed it." He let out a disgruntled sort of noise. "Are you sure about this, Bastila? The whole plan seems... riskier than I would like."

Bastila halted next to him, frowning into the distance. "It is the only way, Carth. And, in truth, I feel a sense of certainty about this. Sometimes, a trained Jedi can sense possibilities upon the Force. Have faith. It will work out."

"Jedi feelings," Carth muttered. I had the distinct impression he didn't think much of her answer, but maybe the captain didn't understand just how powerful a Jedi could be. "We call that gut instinct, Bastila. Half the time it's nothing more than adrenaline spurring you on."

I closed my eyes. I want to go home. The spare blaster dug into my hip. I can't use a weapon! My breath was shaky. A foreign feeling of irritated fury swelled inside me, and that sneering voice snarled once more. This is bantha crap. I'm going to disembowel someone... anyone!

"Jen!" Bastila snapped suddenly. I jerked my eyes opened, startled. She had a fierce expression that dissolved once my gaze met hers. She walked closer, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "Relax," she said softly. "Trust in me, trust in the Force."

I nodded slowly, and the dark thoughts disappeared. I glanced sideways to see a frown of suspicion etched into the countenance of the Republic captain. His gaze was darting between the both of us.

"I shall proceed to have a polite conversation with the Sith guard," Bastila said smoothly. Further afield, I could see the lone figure Bastila referred to, standing at attention near the base's entrance. My stomach clenched. "As soon as he permits me inside, follow. And please, act nonchalant. There is little foot-traffic here, but we cannot be too careful."

Bastila breathed in, surveying the area. The bustling courtyard behind us had a steady stream of sentients, but the cul-de-sac was quiet. Which made sense, as who would want to attract the notice of the Sith?

With a nod to us both, Bastila motioned for the astromech to follow her, and began striding confidently towards the guard. The little droid whistled once, and then followed her obediently.

Carth took a step to my side. I glanced at him sideways; a lock of hair had fallen into his eyes, which were dark with confusion.

"Okay, want to tell me what's going on?" he said in a low tone.

"N-nothing," I muttered, my shoulders hunching.

"Nothing?" he countered sharply. "Jen… are you alright? You- you're acting like a different person."

I blinked, staring at him. His frown was slowly transforming into a scowl.

"S-shouldn't we, uh, be keeping an eye on Jedi Sh- I mean, Bastila?" I stuttered, looking back to Bastila. She'd reached the guard, now, and was deep in conversation.

"Jedi Shan?" Carth echoed in disbelief. "What are you playing at, Jen? Are you trying to toy with Bastila? Or is it me?"

My eyes flew to his; his brows had lowered, and he was glaring furiously at me. "No!" I said in horror. "I'm not playing at anything! I don't understand what you mean!"

A stony shutter fell over his face, and he stared at me coldly. "Fine. Have it your way." Carth turned to face the Sith base entrance once more, folding his arms. My face heated with humiliation, and I felt slightly nauseous. I don't understand, what have I done to offend him?

I don't give a ronto's arse. A dark sneer.

This is frelling ridiculous. An annoyed retort.

No, I am Jen Sahara! A desperate plea.

Jen! Stop it! Focus! Again, I seemed to be hearing Bastila. I gulped, and stared down at the ground. It was made of a sort of poraclay, up here on Upper Taris. Parts of it sparkled in the sunlight. Back in the commune, only our best dinnerware had been made of poraclay.

I must trust Bastila, I reminded myself. These voices are not real. They are merely some sort of residual trauma from the head injury. Later, I would go back to the medical facility. Doctor Forn would know how to help me.

"She's in," Carth whispered. He began to stride towards the Sith base as I glanced around nervously. I saw a handful of citizens walking away from us, back towards the bustling courtyard, but there was no foot traffic in between us and the ominous building. The Sith guard had escorted Bastila inside, and Carth was halfway there already. I blinked, and raced after him.

We slipped into the double doors that heralded the entrance of the base, entering a large foyer. It appeared to be a reception area of some description. The same black obsidian pillars as outside also adorned the corners of this room, with a silver filigree pattern inlaid upon them. The ceiling itself was incredibly high, perhaps even the full height of the building. This place would be terribly expensive to heat in winter, I thought inanely.

Two auto-hatches exited the foyer on both sides. A green-skinned Twi'leki stood behind a large desk made out of the same black stone as the pillars. Her face was heavily plastered in cosmetics, and she was flanked by two Sith guards in the same full-body armour as the outside sentry.

That one was still chaperoning Bastila, as they approached the receptionist together.

The Twi'lek turned heavily outlined eyes on Bastila, pursing her bright red lips in annoyance. Her lekku were freshly waxed, and shone beneath the artificial lighting of the place. I noticed with trepidation that the two Sith guards had straightened to wary attention.

"What?" the Twi'lek drawled. She sounded utterly bored.

"I am here to see the governor," Bastila said firmly. "He is expecting me."

"Where is your identification?" one of the guards snapped out.

Bastila's head turned to appraise the Sith guards. "You are not needed here. Your superior wishes to see you now." Her words were weighty and strangely compelling, and one of her hands twitched slightly at her side. It seemed a benign and almost abstract gesture, and yet I somehow knew I was seeing Bastila Shan's mystical power at work.

I felt a sense of awe awake within me.

"Uh, I think the captain wants to see us," the guard on the left said mechanically.

"Yes, he requests to see all three of you now," Bastila intoned again, turning to eye over the sentry who had ushered her in.

"We had better see him," the second guard echoed.

"Uh, yes," the sentry stuttered. I stared in stunned astonishment as all three guards turned, and left through one of the doors. Wow! That is amazing!

The receptionist, however, was frowning in confusion. "Just who are you?" she demanded, tapping a lacquered fingernail impatiently next to an inlaid console on the desk.

"You need to go powder your nose," Bastila snapped.

The Twi'lek blinked dazedly, stepping backwards. "I'll be right back," she muttered, and fled out the other door.

Carth snickered. "Nice one. A little disconcerting how easy that is for you, though."

That was so powerful! No wonder people admired the Jedi so. No wonder Bastila knew she could protect me. I had never met a Jedi, before my contract onboard the Endar Spire, but I'd read my share of transcripts and accountings of their fantastical deeds.

"It was not easy." Bastila sounded weary. "Nor does it always work. T3-M4, see if you can slice into the main system from here." Her gaze had moved to the exits. Carth had already unclipped his blasters in readiness as Bastila continued snapping out commands. "Search for the latest launch codes, and retrieve them."

The droid whistled in acknowledgement, and wheeled over to the reception terminal. A small probe extended from the astromech's chassis, before inserting into the bypass slot of the console.

"Jen, guard the other door," Carth hissed, and his voice sounded angry. I whirled around to see him leaning to the side of an exit, his dual blasters held firmly upright.

I'm no guard! With difficulty, I swallowed my fear and rushed to the other exit, fumbling to unclip the foreign weapon. I could only hope, desperately, that no one would enter.

"Bastila, this place will have surveillance," Carth clipped out. "If you don't want the Sith to know we're here, get Teethree to disable that first. Here's hoping no one's watching right now."

Bastila nodded. "Good thinking," she murmured, leaning down to relay the orders to Teethree.

I stood nervously by the hatch as the minutes ticked by. Silence lay thick like mola-syrup on the air, broken only by the clicks and whirrs of Teethree. My palms were sticky with nervous sweat, and the blaster felt unwieldy in my grasp.

I gasped as I heard footsteps in the distance.

"Someone's approaching my door," Carth muttered. "How far is Teethree?"

The droid whistled something encouraging.

"He's decrypting the codes," Bastila murmured. "Almost there, but we need more time."

"Well, you don't have it," Carth said curtly. "Get the droid to disable the hatch, or we'll end up with a fight on our hands."

"T3-M4, can you disable the right access door into this foyer?" Bastila fired at the droid. "Quickly?"

The droid beeped, whirred and then whistled. I heard a thunk from the wall behind Carth.

"The door's not opening, sergeant," someone snapped out from beyond the thick durasteel door.

"Damn. Why does everything break on this gods-cursed planet? These Tarisians can't do anything right. Davis, call maintenance," another voice commanded, and the sound of soldiers walking away met my ears with profound relief.

Carth grinned at Bastila; a hard, roguish sort of grin. "That'll buy us ten minutes while the tech finishes his caffa and donut."

"That was close," Bastila said softly. Her eyes looked tired. "T3-M4, download those codes and let us depart."

A minute later, and the droid whistled victoriously. A smug smile curved Bastila's face, dispersing the weariness, and she strode away from the desk. Her manner was confident and victorious.

"Mission accomplished." She smiled at Carth, and motioned us to join her. Part of me found it impossible to believe everything had fallen into place so easily - yet, that was the power of the Jedi, wasn't it? I'd certainly studied enough history to know just how amazing the Force could be.

"Let's get out of here," Carth muttered, striding along with Bastila to the exit. "Next up, we've got a blasted Mandalorian to meet."

xXx

Chapter Text

A plan of action

- Canderous Ordo -

The ale in here reminded me of my clan's homebrew stout: thick, hoppy, and with a kick like a rancor. Not that I allowed myself to be drawn into nostalgia; the past was better buried, just like my enemies. There was a time and a place for remembrance – be it honouring the battle songs of the fallen or reliving the glory of battles once fought – and here on Taris, doing small-time work for the likes of Davik Kang, was not it.

But the Tarisian ale wasn't bad, and it afforded me some amusement as I wiled the hours away. There were many here who could not handle liquor of this potency; in particular, the spacers and traders penned down on this planet by the Sith blockade. Between off-worlders getting themselves smashed on the local brew, and the gang altercations spilling into the cantina, I had enough to keep me entertained.

Which was a good thing, as I didn't like waiting. I'd always been a Mando'ade of action, and if I had to have downtime, I preferred it to be between the sheets with a willing partner. Not waiting to see if some crazy bint pulled off a plan risky enough that even I hadn't been sure would work.

Still, she was fast, skilled, and got results. I'd gambled on less and, frankly, it was time to leave this planet. I didn't trust the Sith not to retaliate with excess – not when it was the Republic's Jedi princess on the loose. Malak had already shown he was more than ready to inflict massive civilian casualties in a fit of temper.

And let's be honest, Ordo. Even if Davik was paying you fair, you're itching to move on. It was true, I was feeling restless. Like many other Mando'ade, I'd been directionless since Malachor, and turned to mercenary work. It was… not entirely satisfying. A far cry from the days of glory I'd once been so proud of.

I snorted, dismissing the depressing thoughts, and took another swig of the ale. My thoughts turned back to Jen Sahara and her crew. I'd considered turning Bastila Shan in, I'd considered it hard. She was worth a shiny fistful of credits, and I didn't owe any loyalty to the Republic – or the Sith, for that matter. And the other one, the soldier… well, the moment I'd seen his mug I'd picked it as a Republic survivor from the same crash as Shan. It hadn't taken me long to peruse the newsfeeds and recognize him. Captain Carth Onasi, Republic warhero and top-notch fighter pilot. Also worth a fair amount to the Sith.

Which left Jen Sahara. I hadn't found anything on her. Given her proximity to Onasi and involvement in rescuing Shan, she was obviously Republic too. I could have turned them in, gathered a small fortune, and disappeared to another planet. But there was something about Jen Sahara that intrigued me, and I found myself wanting to follow her lead. Credits weren't everything. I had a gut feeling that life around her would get interesting and, that was just the sort of shake-up I was looking for.

"Uh, Canderous, sir?" a soft voice asked. I looked up to see a Twi'lek waitress, her outlined eyes blinking tremulously at me. "Would you like another drink?"

I gaveher a brief nod, baring my teeth, and she scurried away. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. This place is a cesspool of weaklings. Even the gangs didn't overly impress - half the members were no more than homeless runts banding together over their favourite swoop team.

Still, since the blow-out at the race, the streets of the Lower City had been busy. Gun-fights had always been a common sight on the main trunks, but altercations had moved into other pipelines once considered safe to travel. There'd been stories of newly-laid mines, triggered by unsuspecting sents, creating new sinkholes along the fringes of gang-held territory.

I'd heard the Vulkars were winning, and part of me longed to join in, to knock some Vulkar heads together. Brejik should have done better at teaching his troops who to shoot at. Rumour on the street was that the Vulkars, cocky with the scent of victory, had started firing on some of the neutral, smaller gangs.

If the other gangs collectively join the Beks, then the tide may yet turn. I pulled out a cherze cigarra, lighting it, and breathed the woody smoke in. The gang war was an amusing interlude. But, really, it was nothing more than fire-ants scrabbling in the dirt. A scrap over the dingy corridors of a corrupt, resource-less planet.

Such a step down from the battles I had once lived and breathed in.

My gaze caught on a Rodian entering the bar, and I recognized my contact, Jerrin. His round eyes darted about the room before landing on me. As he strode towards me, I stubbed my cigarra out and pulled two prepaid cred chits from my pocket. My other hand rested on a blaster concealed beneath the plasticeel table. Jerrin was a useful tool, but I'd be stupid to trust him.

"Jerrin." I indicated he should sit as he came to a stop in front of me. "Status?"

"I saw three Humans and a droid enter the Sith base about half an hour ago," he said, his words quick and furtive. "Two women, one man. I didn't get close enough to recognize any of them."

"Then what am I paying you for?" I snapped. Mir'osik.

"Hey, they would have seen me if I'd snuck up on them!" he protested.

My eyes flicked to the cantina's entrance, and at that moment I saw Onasi walk in, followed by the Jedi princess and Jen Sahara herself. Ah, the timing of the gods. I smiled humourlessly. Did they succeed? They wouldn't be stupid enough to meet me otherwise, I hope. I flicked Jerrin one of the chits under the table.

"Get lost."

He glanced down at the prepaid plasteel card. The chip on the front proclaimed how much currency was loaded. "Canderous, this isn't what you prom-"

"And you didn't deliver what you said, either. Be grateful I'm feeling generous. Now kriff off before I get angry."

The Rodian swallowed before leaving. I turned my gaze to appraise the oncoming group. Onasi was scowling. Heh, Republic doesn't like me. I'd skimmed a brief overview of his record from the 'Net. He'd served the whole way through the Wars; and like any other staid, sad Republic grunt, he probably still had a chip on his shoulder regarding my people. Somehow, I didn't think we'd be drinking together and swapping war stories anytime soon.

"Canderous," Shan said smoothly as she neared. She was a bit of a looker, really; creamy porcelain skin, shapely figure, fine arse. Shame about her snooty attitude.

"Enjoy your little jaunt in the Sith base?" I mocked, not bothering to hold back a smirk. There was a tightening around her dark eyes, but she otherwise remained composed. Lurking in her shadow stood Jen Sahara.

"We have what you asked for," Bastila replied neutrally.

At her words, a heady sense of satisfaction filled me. I am one step closer to blowing this planet.

Bastila folded her arms, staring at me with an impassive expression I reckoned was a lot shakier than she thought it was.

"So, what is the rest of your plan?" she asked. Onasi stood tensed by her side, one hand on a hip that undoubtedly concealed a blaster. He was about as covert as the princess was relaxed.

"Perhaps I should be talking to your leader," I interrupted, sliding my gaze to Jen. I heard Jen's breath hitch, and my eyes narrowed as I looked at her properly for the first time since she'd walked in.

Her shoulders were hunched, her face averted, and one hand clutched tight on Bastila Shan's arm. Haar'chak, what is this?

"Bastila is our leader," Jen mumbled. My brows lowered as she moved deeper into Bastila's shadow. Who is she trying to fool? Does she take me for a moron? I'd seen Jen in action at the swoop track. Mand'alor's balls, I'd fought beside her and been impressed. There was no way I was buying this pathetic act.

Bastila patted Jen comfortingly on the arm. But Shan sure seems to be swallowing it, doesn't she? I scowled. This was hardly the Jen I wanted to see. We ain't got time for mind games, or whatever the kriff Jen is playing at.

My gaze swung back to Shan. Her lips had tightened, curving down into a sour expression of unpleasantness as she stared back. I almost expected her to stick her fine-boned nose in the air. Suddenly, I thought I could understand why Jen had started screwing with her. Back to business, Ordo. I shrugged to myself. If Jen wants to play the idiot, it ain't your business. Yet.

"So," I started. "You have the launch codes. It won't be long before the Sith find out they've been compromised. I can get us close to the hangar, but not without some bloodshed. We should move out. Now."

Bastila nodded at me. "I... feel a sense of urgency to keep moving. You make sense. But we must pick up Mission and Zaalbar first."

My brows raised in surprise. The Bek brat and her walking carpet are coming as well? A Wookiee would certainly improve our odds. And Mission Vao… well, a warrior she wasn't. But I'd heard about the slicing skills of the Bek's favourite child. It could be that she'd come in useful. Interesting companions. They must be following Jen Sahara. Following her off their homeworld. Bet the Beks won't be too happy about that.

"Lead the way, princess."

Her mouth tightened in annoyance, but she said nothing. I noticed then that the astromech droid had followed them into the cantina. It had been a special commission for Davik, complete with the highest slicing upgrades he could source through the Sith blockade. He'd ordered me to pick it up, without divulging his motivations for acquiring such a specced droid – but I wasn't stupid. Davik wanted the same as me. Escape from Taris. I was not the only one who mistrusted the Sith when a famous Jedi was hiding in our vicinity.

It wasn't like Malak's forces would obliterate Taris. The Sith already held the planet, already reaped the benefits of controlling a hyperpoint along one of the more popular intergalactic trade routes into the Outer Rim. And although this planet had been mined and overused to resource depletion, it did have a large population - which could be a resource in itself.

No, I didn't think Malak wouldn't do another Telos. But he might bomb the planet enough to scare the general populace - enough to crank up the search for Bastila Shan several notches. Enough to turn every sent on this place so desperate that they would lynch any brown-haired, snooty-nosed female Human they came across.

The fall-out from the swoop race had already hit the local news, and images of Bastila Shan escaping a swoop gang would no doubt be making their way up the Sith hierarchy. The fact that a gang had held her captive without informing the Sith would be enough to stoke their lord's infamous temper.

I wasn't planning to be around to get caught up in the cross-fire.

Hadn't exactly planned to be rescuing the Jedi princess either, but life can throw interesting curve-balls, and a true Mando'ade knows how to roll with it. My eyes slid back to Jen Sahara, still cowering behind Shan. And she, definitely, is an interesting curve-ball. Finding out exactly what Jen Sahara's game was would be an amusing diversion – so long as she didn't let it affect her capabilities.

We walked out of the smoky cantina in relative silence, and I held my repeating blaster ready. It was heavily modified; my preferred weapon of choice. I had three smaller handhelds concealed on my body, but the rest of my spare guns were back in my quarters. No matter. It's time to leave. Anything there can be replaced. Clan and honour were what was important, not material belongings.

Not that I had either, on Taris.

I chose a quick route to the Upper City, and as we walked I decided it was time to set things straight with Jen Sahara.

"I don't know what you're playing at, but I expect to see your true form in the oncoming battle," I spoke quietly at Jen's side as I walked up to her. She jumped backwards, her eyes round and fearful.

"Leave her alone," Bastila cut in. "We will be fine in any confrontations that may chance our way."

Haar'chak, but she can certainly hear well. I allowed my eyes to travel slowly over Bastila's form; the woman's face flushed with outrage and her eyes glittered. I noticed with some interest that a double-bladed vibrosword was strapped to her back.

"Nice choice of weapons, princess," I drawled. "I thought you Jedi only used lightsabers?"

"We use whatever suits the occasion, mercenary," she said, her voice tight, and she strode ahead of me as if to end the conversation.

Onasi, on her other side, turned to shoot her a questioning look. "Where is your lightsaber anyway, Bastila?"

Her shoulders stiffened in discomfort. "My lightsaber was... misplaced. I couldn't find it after the crash."

I guffawed at the same time as Onasi.

"Wait a minute, let me get this straight," Onasi spluttered, ending on a chuckle. "You lost your lightsaber? I mean, isn't that a violation of some kind of Jedi code or something?"

Shan stopped walking, and whirled around to face us. She put her hands on her hips, and affronted anger burned her normally pale face bright pink. "This is no laughing matter! During the crash my lightsaber must have... it must have fallen from my belt and rolled under my seat!"

I laughed loudly. Sure, I'd lost my share of weapons along the way, but that was why I always carried a handful. And didn't stay attached to just one – no matter if was a brightly coloured laser sword.

Onasi raised a placating hand, attempting belated damage control. "Hey, hey, hey, don't get mad. I'm sorry. It's just funny to think of a legendary Jedi losing her lightsaber. Take my advice: this is one detail you might want to keep quiet."

Shan gave him a quelling glare. "I hardly consider myself a legend, Carth." Her lips pursed. "Let us keep moving. This conversation is hardly beneficial in any respect."

I snickered, but began to walk once more. And as we turned into the last corridors of the Lower City, a small mob of eight gang members met my eyes. I stiffened as I recognized the aggressive stance and slashed armour of the leader. Brejik. And some of his little friends. It's time for some payback.

The Vulkars all turned to face us, clad in red-and-black armour and with weapons held ready. Onasi cursed, and I heard the sound of Bastila unsheathing her vibrosword.

"Well, well, well," Brejik called out over the distance that separated us. "What do we have here, hmm? My runaway slave, the swoop rescuer extraordinaire, and Canderous Ordo himself. You should have known better than to mess with me, mercenary," he sneered.

"What am I, chopped bantha spleen?" Onasi muttered.

I snorted. "You don't know how to keep your boys in line, Brejik. You turned me into your enemy by firing on me at the race. Hope you enjoy the outcome."

"You don't frighten me. Davik doesn't rule these streets, and word has it that he was less than impressed by your antics at the swoop track." Brejik laughed in mockery. "Poor little Canderous. You didn't realize that Davik doesn't wish the Vulkars for enemies, did you?"

My eyes narrowed. He thinks he can taunt me and get away with it? In a flash, I jerked my gun upwards and opened fire at him. This will be a worthy fight.

Brejik yelped; the cocky di'kut had expected me to stand there and monologue with him until he'd decided to open the fight. He jumped sideways, the blue-white of an energy shield sizzling as he activated it- but I'd pinged him dead centre. Sure, his armour would've absorbed some, but it'd been a hit.

My hand mashed against the power switch of my own shield, while the Vulkars roared and returned fire.

I ran forwards, hooking the blaster onto my belt while unsheathing an Echani foil I'd picked up from an earlier fight. A grenade flew over my head towards the others, and the bright flash of it hit the periphery of my vision. I heard a startled scream from behind.

Four of the men ran up to meet me; I smashed an elbow into the first, following it with a thrust of the blade into his guts. The thud of a stun stick crashing against my armour backplate forced me back a step; I side-stepped and turned; the foil in my hand coming around in a lunge.

But the man crumpled in front of me before I struck; smoke wafting from his head. A quick glance behind him showed Onasi in the distance, taking potshots at the Vulkars.

The discharge of another grenade, this one close, had me stumbling into a foe. We grappled with each other as we lost our footing and fell to the ground, rolling. A sharp pain stabbed into my side; the bastard had managed to wedge some sort of shiv-blade in between the joints of my armour. I rolled over, teeth gritting, and slammed an armoured fist underneath the jaw brace of his helm.

A second punch, and a third, all rocking his head backwards, as the bastard choked and his arms fell uselessly to the ground. The dagger he'd stuck me on was slipped between my ribs and hurt like a schutta. I lunged sideways for the Echani foil; it'd slipped from my grasp as we'd fallen, and now I grabbed it to stab the Vulkar in the throat and end him for good.

I looked up; another Vulkar stood over me, blaster pointed at my head and a victorious sneer on her un-helmed face.

A split-second’s thought, a moment of acceptance: There is no better way to die than in battle.

My vision blurred as a blade slammed hard on the gang member's hand; causing her to yelp and fire uselessly at the ground. It was Bastila, the double-bladed vibro spinning fast and sure in her grasp. Behind her, two other Vulkars were closing in with blades.

As I wrestled to my feet, I felt the impact of blaster bolts against my waning shield. There was a grunt from Onasi, followed by a thud; I looked over to see both him and Jen had fallen. Haar'chak, how'd she get beaten so fast? I'd already picked her as slightly crazy, but this must have been bad luck. I didn't believe she'd go so far as to act like a weakling in battle just to keep up whatever her game was.

The adrenaline pumped through my system, a welcome burn against the sharp pain in my chest. I heard the fizz as my energy shield winked out; I grasped the bladed weapon tight, and charged towards Brejik.

Brejik ducked behind the one gang member remaining next to him, firing over his shoulder. My chest tightened and burned as the armour took the brunt of the blaster bolt; I pushed on through the pain as blood thundered in my head. The other Vulkar stumbled back as my blade rammed through his abdomen.

He gurgled as he collapsed, and I swung to face Brejik, who'd already moved back several metres. Another bolt from him struck me dead centre, and I felt the heat sear and melt through a newly created gap in my armour.

Bastila screamed behind me. There was a thudding noise of her body thumping to the ground.

My breath was coming in short, sharp bursts; my side was bleeding out and another hit of laser fire might be enough to down me.

"Here it ends, Canderous," Brejik mocked, and I heard one set of footsteps behind me. The victor of Bastila's battle, no doubt. "A shame you picked the losing side."

I lurched desperately to the side, ditching the blade as I rolled, one hand scrabbling for another blaster. I fired blindly, feeling a hit to the legs, and another to the chest that seared through to skin and muscle. The red-mist descended in a cloud of rage and agony as my grip was hot on the trigger and all I could hear was the echo of a dozen blasters all firing-

Somehow I'd ended in a crouch, shaking wildly, gun aimed at Brejik who was-

-turning and running as a shower of blaster bolts fired back at him.

Beks behind me, I realized, stunned and dazed, as my vision darkened and my muscles turned to water. What timing. I got another shot off just as Brejik ran out of sight, but I had no idea if it hit him or not.

The ground rushed up to meet me.

xXx

Frigid numbness and raging hot pinpricks jerked me back to consciousness. I yelled in protest and opened my eyes, shivering and sweating with the contrasting physical discomfort.

Bastila Shan was leaning over me, her face a composed mask. "Relax. It is the Force flowing through you, healing your injuries."

I grunted, struggling to lurch myself into a seated position. My vision speckled and blurred as dizziness briefly reigned.

"Lie down for a minute," Shan advised. "The Force may be quick, but it is not miraculous."

My chest felt tight, but it lacked the agony of melted flesh that came with blaster burns. The armour had held up – barely – and we still had to charge through Davik's estate. The wound in my side dulled to a distant throb; either due to Shan's healing prowess or luck. Regardless, it wasn't debilitating.

I ignored the residual discomfort and dragged myself to my feet, only feeling slightly unsteady.

"Relax, princess," I said, flexing my shoulders. "I'm fine. What happened?"

Bastila stared at me under lowered brows, as if she wanted to argue the point but thought better of it. She sighed. "The Beks finished the fight and chased after Brejik. Fortunately for us all, one of them paused to revive me with a stimulant and a shot of kolto. I, in turn, have been able to assist the rest of you."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I'm sure we couldn't live without your amazing Force powers," I drawled. "How did I survive for so long without you?"

The anger that crackled in her dark eyes made me laugh.

"You- !" she cut herself off abruptly, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in deep. I smirked, and turned around to see Onasi and Jen leaning against the grimy walls of the Lower City. The astromech droid was by Jen's feet, looking relatively undamaged. Someone's gotta put a weapon on that mobile trashcan. It could at least serve some purpose in a fight.

"They were both knocked out by grenades," Shan said quietly, following my gaze. Her temper was amusing, but her swiftness at controlling it was even more impressive. I was beginning to enjoy taunting the stuck-up Jedi. "Between the kolto the Beks left behind, and my Force abilities, I believe we are able to move on now." Shan's gaze lingered on my torso, and I glanced down to see streaks of blood drying on the outside of my battered armour suit. "At least take some kolto if you refuse any further of my assistance, Canderous. We still have a battle ahead at Davik's."

I snorted. "I'll relax when I'm off this chivhole of a planet. In the meantime, stims can keep me going."

"As you wish," she said in a taut voice, and then motioned to the others. "We should move on now."

Onasi nodded in response, but Jen just looked petrified. I narrowed my eyes, throwing her a mock glare until she glanced down in nervousness. I couldn't hold back an entertained chuckle.

"Don't be so childish," Shan snapped, catching my amusement. I shot her a derisive look in return. Hah. She's the one who believes Jen's little act.

We headed back to the apartment building in the alien district. My muscles were beginning to tighten and ache uncomfortably; I grimaced and searched my pockets for a stamina stim as we trudged along. From the stiff, abrupt way Onasi was walking, I could tell he too was feeling the after-effects of our clash with the Vulkars. My only regret is that Brejik escaped. I wondered what the chances were of those Beks having caught up to the coward. If I wasn't on my way off Taris, my next goal would've been to hunt down Brejik personally.

Mission Vao and her Wookiee were yapping inside the apartment as we entered. The girl stared at me in awed surprise as I bared my teeth at her. It was her shag pile guard I kept note of, though. I'd heard stories about Vulkars stupid enough to threaten Mission Vao, and they always ended up regretting it.

At any rate, I had no problem with the kid, provided she kept her trap shut.

"Pack up," Shan commanded. "We are heading out."

"Cool!" the Twi'lek enthused, jumping to her feet. The Wookiee growled something, and the girl grinned at him before her gaze returned to rove over the rest of us. "Say, what happened to you guys? Sith base didn't go as planned?"

"We, uh, ran into a little trouble afterwards," Onasi said.

I snorted. "Vulkars who didn't like the look of us."

The kid cocked her head in curiosity, opening her mouth to question, but Shan shushed her. "We need to leave now," the Jedi said in a low, terse voice.

"Okay, sheesh, keep your clothes on," Mission muttered, throwing her a glare. The Wookiee howled as he began to strap blades onto his back; I eyed over the pile of random weapons on the apartment floor with mild admiration.

Onasi was crouching, filling up a pack with grenades, while Shan looked to be gathering a box of med supplies together. Jen Sahara, in contrast, stood awkwardly in front of the apartment's closed door, a vibrosword clutched inexpertly in one hand. I shot her another glare, just to see if it would disconcert her. She twitched, taking a step back, and I chuckled to myself. I was beginning to enjoy this game of hers, and I wondered if she was laughing on the inside as well.

Some minutes of silent and swift packing later, and I led our motley crew back out onto the Tarisian courtyards. The sunlight gleamed on the courtyards filled with soft Humans, all milling around with no apparent understanding of the dangers that a Sith fleet in orbit entailed. The Tarisians gave us a wide berth in general, the odd one pausing to glare or mutter at the Wookiee. In general, any sent on these platforms that wasn't Human was either mocked or mistreated.

The xenophobia was a damn stupid way to treat sentients, but from what I knew of Taris, it was an attitude that had prevailed for generations.

As we walked towards the more lavish side of the Upper City, personal guards replaced the Sith lining the street. Davik, along with the other rich businessmen of Taris, had paid the Sith an awful lot of creds for relative peace. The upper crust had bought the illusion of freedom, and most of them were stupid enough to believe in it.

Mission Vao skipped along next to us, but her eyes were on Bastila Shan. Curiosity was plainly evident on the Twi'lek kid's face.

"Hey, Bastila. You ever just use the Force for fun?" She tilted her head, an impish grin on her face. At once, I had a brief mental picture of Mission Vao, dressed in the dull clothing of the Jedi, clutching a lightsaber and wielding the Force. I snickered. I'd give a whole lot of creds to watch a stand off between the Bek brat and the princess. Imagine that. Was it exposure to the Force that turned Jedi into such boring uptight farts, or did the power only come to those with no personality? Not entirely true, Ordo. There'd been a handful of Jedi worthy of respect, once upon a time. One in particular. My eyes slid to the Jedi princess. Having met her, and gained a sense of both her youth and social awkwardness, I had no kriffing idea how Bastila Shan had been the final end to a Jedi like Revan.

"Fun?" Shan sounded confused, almost affronted. Her brow creased in puzzlement as she stared at the Twi'lek, as if she were trying to understand her. The princess ain't used to dealing with people, that's for sure.

"You know, a little jolt of the Force to trip some jerk who's ticking you off?" Mission beamed. Her brown eyes were bright with enthusiasm. "All these stories 'bout the power you Jedi have… I never really believed it, y'know? But if you can do all that stuff, then surely you've wanted to get a few people back- like, nerf-herders who really deserve it."

Bastila Shan took in a deep breath, straightening her spine to look down at Mission Vao. Her expression closed in on itself, tightening in disapproval. Her lips thinned. "No. Certainly not. The Force is not a trivial plaything, Mission. One must always remain above such petty revenge."

I snorted. Uptight little princess. I bet your back is all knotted up with snooty kinks and you don't even realize it.

"Aw, come on," Mission wheedled, her lekku wrapping around her neck. "There's gotta be times when you've thought about it. Don't be so stuck up - you can tell me!"

I heard Onasi stifle a laugh. I didn't bother hiding mine.

"I am not stuck up," Shan stated in a forced, neutral tone. "I merely have the years of training to give me the wisdom and understanding to see how childish such an act would be."

"Childish?" Mission's voice rose in sharp indignation. "Is that a crack about my age? I'm not the one who got captured by a swoop gang, and I've been living here my whole life! Sheesh, just because you're a famous Jedi doesn't mean you have to be such a prissy know-it-all!"

Mission stumbled then, as if tripping into something invisible, and fell forward towards the ferracrete ground. Hands outstretched, the Twi'lek only just managed to brace herself with a squeak, taking the fall on her palms.

I looked over to Shan in surprise; the Human's face was flushed pink with irritation, her eyes dark with anger. Years of training ain't enough to control her temper it seems, I realized with amusement. Maybe the uptight Bastila Shan wouldn't be quite so boring as I first thought.

Mission Vao was scrambling to her feet, her face purple with embarrassment. "Hey, that wasn't funny!" she squawked.

I was watching Shan, and saw the regret as it passed through her face. She'd take it back, if she could. She actually wants to be an ice queen, with no emotion or life in her. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Mission," she forced out through bloodless lips. Her tone turned neutral once more. "Come now, we have to get going."

Mission let out a high-pitched squeak of frustration, and actually started to leap towards Shan in retaliation, but the Wookiee grabbed her arm and hauled her back.

"Zaalbar!" Mission screeched. He howled something incomprehensible at the Twi'lek, and she shook her head furiously, still glaring at Bastila Shan.

I strode next to Shan; her gaze was fixed firmly ahead and the corners of her mouth had turned down. "How very Jedi-like of you, princess," I drawled. I saw her colour rise, and something akin to shame burn in her dark eyes. The haar'chak Jedi have it all backwards. To be ashamed of emotion is to be devoid of living. And then there were the Sith, who gloried in death and destruction and sadism. They got the job done, but they all seemed to wander down the path of true depravity.

Maybe it is just the Force then. It either snuffs the life out of you, or turns you into something rabid.

The Wookiee was still something softly at Mission Vao, and I idly wondered if the Twi'lek kid would think of a way to thwart Shan, or even get her own back. I could guess how annoying Mission Vao could be, if she put her street-smart mind to work, but I was willing to bet a hundred creds that Bastila Shan would underestimate her. My gaze, however, caught on the estate looming in the distance, and I shrugged off the idle thoughts.

It was time to issue some orders. I halted, turned around, and eyed the group dispassionately. While there were many sentients nearby, none were in obvious earshot. I kept my voice low regardless.

"Alright, troops." I didn't bother concealing my sneer. I'd had half-dead Mando'ade under my command more worthy than this lot. "Here's how the plan goes. Ladies, disarm and throw the lads your weapons. You three are going to act all scared and meek. Jen, it shouldn't be a problem for you." I tossed her a knowing grin, and she flinched rather realistically. "Republic, chuck that upright carpet one of your blasters. You two are gonna be guarding the three brand new slave girls."

Shan gasped in outrage. I raised an eyebrow, impatient and annoyed. "What? You think we can just waltz in, looking like an armoured gang ready for fighting? This cover story will get us into the base, provided you guys are convincing. That includes you, princess."

Shan had turned a mottled red once more. "If this is some sort of trap, mercenary-"

"No trap, princess. I ain't collaring you, am I?" I met her eyes steadily, and I could see that she wanted to object.

Onasi opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it and threw Zaalbar a spare blaster. The Wookiee howled in obvious objection.

"It's not like we're going to tie the girls up!" I snapped, before muttering, "although that would be more convincing."

There was an immediate roar from the Wookiee, and Shan looked about ready to explode.

I laughed. "It won't be necessary, provided you play your part. Republic and Carpet, stand behind the girls with your blasters raised. Mission and Princess, act demure and frightened, for the love of Mand'alor!"

Mission Vao grinned impishly at me, winked, and then looked down with a forced expression of fear. Davik liked his Twi'lek slaves, and Mission's youth would make it an easy sell. Jen was older than Davik cared for, but her acting skills would be enough to hide that - at least until we got in.

Shan was gonna be the problem. She had the looks for a joygirl, but if she wasn't gonna play along then we were kriffed before we'd even started.

She sighed, an angry hissing noise, before breathing in deep and dropping her eyes to the ground.

I nodded in satisfaction.

"Let's move out," I ordered, and began to lead onwards. It wasn't long until we reached the ornate gates that bordered Davik's mansion. I nodded companionably to the guard.

"Back with some fresh slave girls Davik ordered," I said flatly.

The armoured Duros stared at me suspiciously through dull red eyes. "Order? I haven't heard nothin' 'bout any new girls."

"Oh? Privy to Davik's plans, are you?" I griped, turning to glare at him full on. He quailed.

"Uh, sorry Canderous, go right in." He activated the access console, and the large gates swung inwards. I walked onwards, underneath the line of visible laser turrets that pointed ominously at the building's entrance.

Another guard met us at the door and waved us in without any interference. I could feel my eyes narrow, my concentration focus, and my muscles tense in readiness as we walked into Davik's stronghold. The buzz of anticipation and adrenaline were beginning to hit; the markers of entering danger I was long familiar with.

The objectives may differ, but the challenges remained the same. Me and my allies against the galaxy.

Alright, Ordo. Let's do this.

xXx

Chapter Text

Hyperspace: II

Zaalbar:

The opulent estate rose up to encase me with strange marbled walls as I trailed at the rear of the pack.

With a blaster pointed fallaciously at Mission's back, my eyes should have been fixed on my young charge, trudging so submissively into the enemy's den like she truly was the captive she pretended to be.

That was not the case, though. I found myself unable to stop my gaze from darting down each exit we passed, as my shoulders tensed and my instincts told me this entire operation would soon crumble like tree-rot.

This plan is too risky.

That Mandalorian might be careless with his own life, but I did not understand why Mission and Jen Sahara had to be pulled into this hazardous escapade. Particularly the Human, considering the odd way she was behaving. Mission was worried about her; the way my young friend's lekku twitched whenever she glanced Jen Sahara's way made that plainly obvious.

The woman I owed my life too was quiet, confused, and scared. I could see the tremulous emotions in her cowed stance, and could track the fear in her scent. Something had happened to her – and while I might appreciate the thought of Jen Sahara curbing her own recklessness, I was also concerned that, in her current state, she might be more vulnerable in a fight than ever before.

I will guard her back, or die in the attempt. Hers, and Mission's both.

The gleaming ostentatiousness of the dwelling set my teeth on edge. Garish holo-pictures dotted the walls, and each corner was decorated with a purple urn containing a plasteel pretension of a plant. This veneer of synthetic prettiness was worse than the grime and poverty of the Lower City, and a pang of longing for my homeworld burned deep in my soul.

To be in a forest somewhere. To be amongst the wroshyr trees. Even after all these years, Taris had never felt like home. Too many strange aliens, all packed together like a teeming nest of fire ants lacking any sort of hive mind. It had been an accident, landing here; I'd been a young cub running from the past, and Taris had been a stop along the way to somewhere else. But traders on the freighter I had boarded betrayed me for the empty allure of alien credit chits. I did not understand, then, how many soulless sentients were out there; how some beings could look at a Wookiee and see no more than a prime specimen to be sold like a shank of meat.

A moment of inattention from an overweight slaver had led to my escape, and so I fled: half-enraged and half-petrified, ignorant of where I was or the dangers I was running into. Had it not been for Mission chancing upon me, I was not sure how long I would have lasted amongst the gangs and the Exchange and the corrupt way of life in the tunnels of Taris.

It was strange to think that we might soon be leaving. Assuming, of course, that this foolhardy plan came to fruition. We had thrown our lot in with off-world strangers – and while my life-debt shackled me to Jen's side, Mission was another story.

What sort of existence does the daughter of my heart have here, on this corrupt planet? I did not wish to think of her, growing up amongst the moral ambiguity of a swoop gang who were willing to sell spice for profit and loot foodstuffs from other gangs who were just as needy. Survival, they called it, but some days all I could see was dishonour in their actions. And while the Hidden Beks may have granted Mission the protection of a den, they had certainly been lacklustre in keeping her away danger, despite Zaerdra Leno's best efforts.

No – a better future awaited Mission Vao in the stars, and so I could see no solid reason to keep her from following me.

I huffed in irritation at my wandering thoughts, and tightened my grip on Carth Onasi's blaster. A bow-caster it was not, but between this cheap gun, the vibroswords strapped on my back, and the strength of my own paws, I would be strong enough to face whatever awaited us.

The cloying scent of artificial perfume hung thick on the air, and up ahead the Mandalorian halted, before turning around to grace the lot of us with a leering grin. I did not trust this Human. He was dangerous, and worked for the Exchange – an organization both unscrupulous and offensive. While Canderous Ordo might now be rescinding his loyalty, it did not mean his values had increased in worthiness. I planned to keep my eye on him, for both Mission and Jen Sahara's safety.

"Welcome to the slave quarters, kids," Canderous drawled.

Bastila Shan's face was composed, but her posture belied her annoyance. I wondered if there was a trace of fear, also; I could not forget that the Jedi was young, and had suffered trials of her own. It was a shame that Mission seemed to have taken a dislike to the Jedi, for I could not help but feel sympathetic.

"Why are we stopping here, Canderous?" Bastila asked in a level voice.

"Good a place as any to talk before we hit trouble. Now, listen up. The hangar is located in the north-west side of this estate-"

Jen shrank back against me. Once more, she was behaving like a completely different sentient to the brash Human who had rescued me. Her shift in conduct was strange... beyond strange. Did Jen Sahara knock her head again? She suffered a grievous injury shortly before I first met her – perhaps her odd behaviour is connected?

I would ask Mission to speak with Jen later, I decided. I did not pretend to understand Humans, but I did know they were similar to Twi'leks in that they liked to talk a lot – and Mission was certainly good at that.

"-we're gonna get questions sooner or later," Canderous was saying. "And we have to break through Davik's security on the Ebon Hawk. This rust bucket better pull its weight there." Canderous aimed a kick at the droid, who beeped in indignation while backing away.

"Hey!" Mission complained, her protest drowning out the Mandalorian's derisive chuckle. "Leave Teethree alone!"

The pad of footsteps ahead had us all wilting into silence. I looked afield, to see a heavily armoured Zabrak walking cautiously toward us. The stranger's helm was raised, and as he neared the heavy brow ridges on his alien face lowered.

"Uh, Canderous?" the Zabrak said. His gaze darted over the group. "Who's all this with you?"

"Just showing some slave girls their new quarters," Canderous replied with a shrug.

The Zabrak's frown deepened, as his shifty eyes settled over Carth Onasi and myself. "I thought you worked alone?"

"Not always, di'kut. Not when the situation calls for extra muscle," Canderous sneered. "Look, I need to find the boss. Seen him around?"

"Davik's in his quarters, last I looked," the other man said slowly. He was still eyeing me over, and I felt myself tense in readiness as the man's hand rested near a blaster strapped to his hip.

"Good." Canderous threw the man an abrupt nod of acknowledgment. "I'm headed that way, then. Come on, boys, let's move out."

The Zabrak stepped back to let us pass, and his gaze moved to fix on the Mandalorian's retreating back. His brow ridges were still tightly creased in what I thought might be suspicion.

This ploy will not work for long.

I did not like leaving a potential enemy at my back, yet I had no choice but to follow Canderous Ordo's lead. I huffed, and was glad when we turned a few corners, leaving the Zabrak behind.

The group settled into silence as we trudged deeper into the lavish estate. I heard the raucous sound of cheering well before the hallway turned and opened into a large room - a sprawling chamber that was thick with the scent of Tarisian ale and the sound of jeering catcalls.

A brawl, I thought at first, taking note of two Humans wrestling in the centre of the room. But the onlookers – ten sentients, most seated in plimfoam benches circling the spectacle – were making no moves to join in the fight nor stop it, and it was then I realized this must be some sort of organized event.

The two scantily clad Twi'leki cubs who slipped between the cluster of aliens offering trays of drinks seemed to suggest the same.

Mission sniffed in disgust.

I held back the growl that wanted to escape my throat. It was possible the Twi'leki younglings were here of their own free will, on a paid job – but I knew a little of this world, now, and I doubted that. I had been sold like a crate of goods in front of a crowd, and no one had blinked. It was a loathsome practice abundant on Taris – the worst symptom of the corruption that twisted this planet's soul.

In my heart, there was nothing more abominable than slavery.

"Daelin," Canderous said in a low voice. In front of him, a Human stranger had slipped away from the fight to intercept Canderous. In the man's shadow stood a heavily armoured Rodian.

"Ordo," the Human replied. The Rodian had a blaster in his hand, dangled idly by his side. "Quite a motley crew you've got here."

"New slave girls for Davik." Canderous tilted his head to the wrestlers, who were now grappling on the floor amidst the braying of the spectators. "Might come back and watch after I offload these girls."

Canderous took a step along the edges of the room, but the man called Daelin didn't budge from his position, right in the way of the nearest exit.

I edged toward Mission. The bad feeling in my gut was growing.

"Davik wants to see you, but he ain't expecting you to bring company." Daelin folded his arms. "And I ain't been told 'bout no slave girls."

"Are you questioning me, Daelin?" Canderous growled. "The last person who did that ended up picking his eyeballs out of his dinner."

"You don't scare me, Ordo," the man sneered. His gaze moved suggestively over Mission, before narrowing on me. "Davik said you'd been getting greedy, said you might be thinking of turning traitor. Do you really expect me to believe that the Beks' pet Wookiee would bring in Mission Vao? How stupid do you think I am?"

The hair on my neck rose in alarm. This was it- no escaping a battle now.

I shoved the foreign blaster in Mission's hand, before yanking a vibrosword free from my back harness. Canderous was even quicker – his large weapon snapped up instantly as he opened fire.

There was a yell from the Human as he was gunned down, and screams from the seated audience as the Mandalorian's firepower turned to sweep over them.

The armoured Rodian, though – that was my target, and I let loose the growl in my throat as I rushed forward.

His armour was no match for the strength of my vibrosword as it shattered into his side. With a roar, I threw my head forward to smash into the Rodian's un-helmed face, and the man crumpled to the ground.

After a final, fatal stab of my weapon deeper through the man’s broken armour, I spun around to view the carnage.

Carth Onasi and Mission were close to the wall, their blaster fire gutting into the room as the two Twi'leki girls cowered behind them. Relief shot through me, even at the sight of the helpless servants – for I knew that it was often the helpless to fall first in a fight like this.

Bastila Shan had reclaimed her weapon from Carth, a double-bladed vibro-staff that spun in her hands as she waded through the centre of the room. And Jen-

Jen Sahara was frozen. Her face was a mask of shock, and she made no effort to move or arm herself as blaster fire streamed around her.

"(Jen!)" I howled.

A piercing wail knifed through the air and, as I bounded toward Jen, I jabbed an elbow into the temple of a Duros, bent over a control panel inset on the wall.

"The kriffing alarms!" Canderous cursed behind me. "There goes our secrecy!"

Jen still wasn't moving, and I wasn't close enough. Behind her was the shadow of an enemy-

"(Jen!)" I howled again. "(Catch!)"

Too late- her attacker lunged forward with a chiv-blade, stabbing it deep into her thigh. Jen screamed, and the vibrosword I had hurled in her direction sailed uselessly past.

No! I roared in panic, still rushing forward. The mercenary pulled his arm back to strike again, and in his shadow another two stepped up to flank him. No – I will not fail my life-debt!

I saw Jen stumble, saw the smatter of dark red staining the ferracrete flooring at her feet. I'd left her unguarded, she had frozen in the face of terror, and I was too far away-

Jen ducked. It was a sharp move to the side that morphed into a roll, and somehow, she ended in a crouch with my blade in her grasp. Almost faster than my eye could track, Jen’s arms snapped forward in a powerful lunge. The vibrosword blurred, and struck the boots of the nearest thug.

The armour surrounding the man’s ankles shattered. He fell, shrieking.

By then, I had reached the first thug, the one who had stabbed Jen Sahara – but he didn’t notice my arrival until my paws closed tight around his neck. A wrench to the side, and then it was over for him.

"Pathetic weakling!" The words were a low sneer from Jen, but it did not sound at all like her. She stood over her enemy, having finished him with a stab clean through his neck-brace. Hot red spurted from the shuddering corpse as she yanked her weapon free. "You can't best me!"

"(Jen! Behind you!)" I wailed. A female mercenary had a blaster aimed at Jen's unarmoured back. Jen didn't pause: she spun, instead, faster than was possible – and then her outstretched vibrosword sliced through the thug's forearm.

The bloody limb flopped onto the floor. The mercenary howled in shock, a shriek that was abruptly cut off as Jen dropped a hand from the sword and crunched a fist into the woman's throat.

Choking, the woman staggered back before sinking to her knees. She collapsed a second later, when Jen's vibrosword stabbed deep past the thin layer of mesh protection covering her chest.

Jen snarled, both hands returning to the vibrosword's hilt as she pulled it free and raised it high.

She turned to face the room.

For an instant – only an instant – I froze at the look in her forest-green eyes. Soulless. Frenzied.

Madclaw.

"Guess she's got her berserker rage back," Carth muttered somewhere behind me.

"Hah!" Canderous called out in exultation. It was then I realized that we were the only ones left standing. "Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur!"

And then, Jen Sahara's expression shattered into fear. Her bloody leg buckled underneath her, and she collapsed.

I was there in a flash, catching her before she landed. Jen was shivering, sweating, her eyes rolling back in her head. "(Someone – help her! There is something wrong other than a leg wound!)"

I looked up in panic, only to meet the horrified gaze of Bastila Shan.

"I am Jen Sahara," the Human woman I owed my life to mumbled softly. I did not think it was loud enough for anyone else to hear. "I am!"

"(Yes)," I rumbled, but my gaze did not drop from Bastila Shan's. There was no reason for the look of stark fear that painted the young woman's face and held her strange almond-shaped eyes open so wide.

"We ain't got time for this, princess," Canderous Ordo snapped, giving Bastila Shan a shove. "Use your magic tricks or some kriffing kolto and get Jen back on her feet. We're gonna need her sword."

Bastila swallowed, but then her face tightened into composure and she strode forward to kneel next to us.

But the stink of fear still wafted from her.

Is Bastila Shan afraid for Jen, or of her? Jen Sahara's berserking rage was more than unsettling. The unmitigated fury that overtook the older woman was soulless in its depth and frightening in its strength. But to rattle a mystical Jedi so... it was then that I wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with the Human I was indebted to – something beyond the implications of a head injury.

And as Bastila Shan harnessed her fantastical powers, and colour began to bloom in Jen's cheeks, I vowed to myself the same words as before, but this time with an addendum:

I will protect Jen Sahara from any threat – including herself.

xXx

Malak Devari:

::Our fleet is in position, my lord.:: The image of Admiral Karath flickered atop the holo-stand, his hands folded formally behind his back. ::The TNF have demanded an immediate expulsion of our forces under threat of retaliation, but that is nothing more than empty bluster. They are too weak to mount any sort of challenge against our might.::

"The Tarisian National Front all but welcomed our sovereignty years ago." I chuckled, dwelling on my two standing bases that the puppet government of Taris had long pretended did not exist. "Hold your position, Admiral, and await my next order."

Karath snapped out a quick salute, and vanished from the stand. A sense of ready satisfaction warmed in my gut. Truly, I had granted those Tarisians more time than they deserved.

"Put Rylun on," I clipped out to the nearest tech. He was quick, efficient, and sparse with his words. I did not tolerate the bugs in my home any other way.

The technician's fingers danced over the communication controls. Five seconds, perhaps, before another figure shimmered to existence on the holo-stand.

::My lord-::

"Status update, Admiral," I ordered.

The holo-projection of Admiral Rylun bowed. ::We have exited hyperspace outside the Arillian asteroid belt, my lord, and our fleet is in the process of refuelling. Once complete, we shall plot a course for the Dantooine system. Our expected time of arrival is thirty standard hours.::

Thirty hours. It was longer than I preferred, but most of my forces were elsewhere – further away from this Outer Rim planet I had been content to ignore until now.

The Jedi Order was a bunch of cowardly hypocrites, but I had underestimated their meddling – and now they would pay the price.

My eyes narrowed. "Hit quick and hard, Rylun. The primary target must be eliminated. There is no room for failure. You understand that, don't you?"

Rylun was too much of a professional to show fear, but a tightening around his eyes indicated he was not as calm as his façade showed. After all, his predecessor had retreated from a risky offensive that I had ordered, after it had turned sour.

His predecessor had taken three days to die.

I'd brought Rylun to visit her, near the end. It was interesting how more loyal and efficient underlings could be with the right motivation. And Rylun, newly promoted, needed to understand that neither failure nor cowardice was an option.

Although, frankly, his chances of surviving the Dantooine offensive were slim.

I can replace Rylun. Provided he destroys the master Star Map on Dantooine, then I don't care if I lose his entire fleet. If Rylun truly deserves those admiral pips on his shoulders, then he will find a way to achieve his target, weaken those meddling robes, and return with his life.

::We will decimate the ruins, my lord.::

"Good. Once eliminated, you will turn the attack to the Enclave. They will be scurrying to bolster the planetary protections once the plasma starts dropping, but that will take them time. Time enough for you to hurt them."

::I shall not fail you, my lord.::

"See that you don't." I waved my glove to the console technician, and Rylun vanished. "Put Karath back on."

Only two seconds, this time, for the holo-stand to fill.

::My lord?:: Admiral Karath acknowledged.

"Begin the attack on Taris," I ordered, and it was a pleasure to say those words. "Those Tarisians shall know the price of failure, Karath. I will see that planet in ruins."

One live foot-soldier, and three corpses of unimportant Republic grunts. That was all that Taris had been able to offer me from the ruins of the Endar Spire. I could feel my anger rally once more, crackle over my skin in waves of pure Force energy. No officer, no Jedi, and certainly no Bastila Shan. I did not tolerate failure, be it from an admiral or a planet of Tarisians.

::My lord, our men are still on the surface. I need time-::

"The search for Bastila is taking too long, Admiral. I sense movement in the Force. We attack, now."

I would not risk Bastila Shan going to ground or worse – escaping the planet.

::Of course, my lord.:: Karath bowed. He was experienced and strategically gifted, and had once been a man that I had reported to – in my younger, less-evolved days.

Perhaps it was that – or merely the years of war behind him – for the reason I gave the man more leeway than most.

::Although, two hours would allow me to extract fifty percent of our-::

"Now, Karath!" I snarled, and felt the crackle of Force surge in white static over my fists. Leeway only went so far, and if Karath thought he was safe from a distance-

::At once, my lord!:: Karath gasped, bowing deeper, and the dark fury cresting on the Force around me ebbed in response. ::I will lead the charge myself, immediately!::

I allowed him the gift of my silence, and twitched my hand at the nearby tech.

Karath's figure winked out.

I turned, and strode from the command centre. Taris would soon feel the weight of my wrath. I cared little for the planet, truly; its natural resources had long been plundered to near depletion, and its strategic position along the galactic hyper-routes was vastly overrated when compared to the awesome power of the Star Forge.

If I closed my eyes, I could sense the dark miasma of power calling to me from the Forge, even from this distance. Nothing could stop me now – not the prehistoric shell of the Republic, not those cowering fools from the Order, and certainly not that battle meditation thorn in my side.

What a shame I could not have captured Bastila alive. It would have been sweet, so sweet, to break her – a barely grown woman with such an unusual gift, and one of the last defences of the antiquated Order. I had met Bastila Shan, once, a lifetime ago – and still remembered her as a lush girl blooming with innocence.

Of course, I'd only had eyes for another then.

Revan.

If there was one sight I would have liked to see, it would have been the expression on the face of my former master when my flagship opened fire on hers. The only thing sweeter would have been digging my own lightsaber into the black pit where her heart had once resided.

Well. Dead is dead. She is no more than space dust, now. The opportunity to wipe out both Bastila Shan and Darth Revan above Deralia had meant I was denied a face-to-face confrontation, but I had believed it worth the sacrifice of personal enjoyment.

Yet who would have predicted the young Jedi to escape, alive?

It matters not. Soon there will be no more loose ends. Bastila Shan would be vaporised in the Tarisian bombardment, if what remained of the populace didn't hunt her down and offer her up in return for mercy. And the master Star Map would be destroyed, removing any reference to the other four planets.

Oh, how I wished I knew how the Jedi had discovered that relic of Rakatan legacy! My little pet who betrayed the Endar Spire exposed their knowledge to me but not their reasoning: Galdea must have known of the Star Map, but why risk Shan, unless she was the one to stumble upon the Dantooine ruins in the first place?

Had I the young woman in my grasp, I would never have risked her so. Still, perhaps, in the grand scheme of galactic control, the reasoning of those fools on that backwater planet mattered little. Galdea was dead, cut down by Bandon. Rylun's strike on Dantooine would take out the master Star Map. And with Bastila's upcoming demise on Taris, all knowledge leading to the Star Forge would be winked out.

Then there would be nothing left to truly oppose me. The Republic would fall, soon; weakened by generations of war. The Jedi were even more crippled, and while the Order might sanction involvement in war these days, their strength had been gutted by their refusal to do the same years ago.

And the Unknown Regions – I had turned my back on the Unknown Regions. What was out there could rot by itself.

xXx

Mission Vao:

We sprinted down hallways as the alarm wailed in all directions. My heart thumped, fast and hard, like someone had spiked my fizz-pop. And through my mind, images of mangled bodies we'd left behind kept flashing like a blitzed holo-sign, lurid and bright and hard to ignore.

Part of me wished I was back in the Bek headquarters. Back where things were safe; where killing might happen but somehow it wasn't real 'cause the Beks kept me away from it all.

Big Z's heavy paw thudded on my shoulder, holding me back as Canderous charged into another room. The moment we heard the sound of his massive gun starting up, Big Z bounded ahead with Carth at his side.

My blaster felt slippery in my sweaty grip. I looked down to see my hand shake.

Get it together! This was real. This was life or death. And if there was ever a time to show that I was more than just a kid, it was right now.

I ran through the doorway, blaster raised- but there was nothing left but corpses at Big Z's feet. My best friend huffed, his vibrosword glistening red under the artificial lighting.

For the first time ever, I suddenly got how others saw him. A towering, bristling mass of muscle that couldn't even speak Basic. I shivered- and then he was Big Z again, striding my way with his furry face all furrowed in concern.

"(Where's Jen?)" Big Z rumbled, and I spun around to check. But it was okay – they were behind me. Jen was pale, cowering at that stuck-up snot's side, and Bastila-

Bastila was next to her, staring at Jen's bowed head with the weirdest look on her face. She almost looked scared of Jen. Jen, who was going all borked and pathetic and was currently about as scary as a soap dispenser.

"Come on!" Canderous bellowed from the other side of the room, and Bastila's chin jerked up. She tugged on Jen's arm, and they both stumbled forward. Jen's eyes were wide and frightened, and whatever was going on with her was serious. Later, when this was over, I was going to have a long talk with her.

The room shook; sudden and jarring, and my feet buckled underneath me. I squawked in surprise, hands stretching out to break my fall.

There was a shattering noise as a holo-picture fell from a wall and smashed into a thousand shards of ferracrystal.

"(What was that?)" Zaalbar howled, getting to his feet. Sheesh – he'd also been knocked down. And Davik's stupid alarms hadn't stopped – if anything, it sounded like more of them had joined in. Further away.

"Earthquake?" My question came out in a squeak. Beneath my palms, the ground was still shaking. I'd heard about earthquakes, but the only ones on Taris were when bits of the Lower City crumbled into sinkholes. From what I'd heard, the Upper City was structured and strengthened enough that sinkholes and level collapses simply couldn't happen here.

There was a loud boom somewhere in the distance. It sounded a bit like an explosion.

"Orbital bombardment," someone said in a low, dark tone. I blinked, glancing over at Carth, not recognizing his voice at first. He was still standing – and the look on his face was bleak. Almost- almost like he'd seen a ghost. "That's the noise of plasma chewing into buildings."

"Haar'chak," Canderous spat, as the ground beneath us began to rattle. "Republic's right. This is coming from the skies."

"The Sith." Bastila's voice was a harsh whisper as she held two fingers to her pale brow. "I can sense it. They're bombing the planet!"

"Just to make things really challenging," Canderous ground out. "We're running out of time – we need to split up."

"Split up?" Bastila protested. "Are you mad? We should all be heading for that ship of yours!"

"Someone needs to disable the mechanical lock on the landing gear, princess, while the rest of us secure the ship," Canderous shot back. "Unless you want the Ebon Hawk to rip itself apart when we take off."

The walls shook again with another explosion. "C'mon guys, no time for arguments!" I yelled, getting to my feet. "How do we disable this thing, then?"

"There's a system mainframe near here that controls the ship's security," Canderous said, turning to face me. "Someone's gotta sneak in there with the droid to hack into the system. I'll lead a team to go kill anyone stupid enough to be guarding the'Hawk."

I'm not just a kid. Here's a chance to prove it.

"Teethree's my droid, so I'll go," I offered. I felt my fingers curl against my palm. I could help, and I was going to show it. "My splicing's pretty wizard, too. Big Z, give us some backup?"

Zaalbar looked at me, then back at Jen. I knew what he was thinking, but Jen... Jen would be safer with the others, the way she was.

"Good idea, kid." Canderous threw me a nod. "Hop to it-"

"I ain't a kid, you old geezer!"

"Careful, kid," he growled. "Watch your damn tongue and get to work. Take Carpet and Trashcan and head through the north doors. The security room is down the left hallway, the door at the end. No idea what the system is. Be quick!"

I waved Teethree forward, hurrying past that grumpy mercenary and poking my tongue out when he was looking away. Teethree whistled as he followed, and at the door I stopped, waiting for Big Z. He was howling in complaint.

"(Jen should come with us)," he wailed. He probably thought he was being subtle but sheesh, he was loud enough that I almost expected Jen to squawk in complaint.

"Big Z, she'll be safer with them," I hissed. "I need you!"

Zaalbar huffed in irritation, but strode over to me without any more moaning about it.

"I know," I muttered, as he took the lead. "I'm worried about her, too."

He nodded at me, lifted his blade, and then bashed open the door with a kick. It gave under his strength, and the hallway beyond was mercifully empty as we rushed through.

It didn't take long to reach the security room, which was tucked behind a five-inch durasteel door that took Teethree less than a min to slice. Far out, but he was ace, even for a specced-out astromech. Inside, the mainframe took up most of the space in the small room - there were two tall racks filled up with servers and controllers, and a long desk embedded with a row of console screens. At least I knew we were in the right place-

I ran to the desk. "Teethree, get your gears over here and slice in." I pointed to the central console, budging over to give the droid space. "Start looking for the Ebon Hawk's security system. You need to disable the mechanical lock that's keeping it grounded. I'm gonna do something else quickly."

"Teethree, get your gears over here and slice in." I pointed at the console, budging over to give the droid space. "Start looking for the Ebon Hawk's security system. You need to disable the mechanical lock that's keeping it grounded. I'm gonna do something else quickly."

My fingers flew over the neighbouring console and, within minutes, I had that stupid alarm switched off and the cam-feeds showing on the screen. "Hey Big Z, can you keep an eye on the feeds while we hack? Let us know if anyone comes close?"

Big Z nodded, leaning over me as I turned back to tap Teethree on his dome. "How's it going, little buddy?"

Teethree warbled a negative. I wasn't, like, totally fluent in Binary, but I knew enough to get the general gist. I'd spent a lot of time hacking with the Beks' utility droids. "Can't find a code? Look for some sort of scan – maybe Davik uses retinal or facial recog we can break."

Teethree whistled, and screens of data flashed by on the monitor. A min or two later, and he beeped sadly at me.

"Poodoo," I cursed. "What else could it be? Maybe an autoprint or something?"

"(Mission, some people are in the corridor!)" Zaalbar cut in. My gaze darted back to the second screen.

Bantha crap! It was insane, but I actually recognized them - and it was bad.

Davik Kang and Calo Nord. They'll kill us if they find us here!

"Hide, guys!"

There was no exit... nothing, here, except to hide under the desk, and hope they were too frantic 'bout the bombardment to notice us. But Big Z wouldn't fit-

My panicked gaze snagged on the large equipment closet up against the side wall. "Big Z, go jump in there!" I gestured wildly. "Teethree, under the desk with me- and no one make a peep or we're fried!"

It was dark and dusty, and I banged my knee hard on a desk leg just as the hatch slid open and the large cupboard doors closed.

"Damn those Sith - they're bombing the whole city!" Davik cursed, stomping in and heading straight for the console I'd just been behind. "After the credits we've thrown at them, you'd think they'd give us advance warning!"

"Never trust the Sith, Davik," Calo drawled. I shivered. Please don't let them see us. Calo Nord was one scary guy. He was almost as scary as Canderous. "Davik, we don't have the launch codes. You really think we can get past the Sith's automated defense guns?"

"No idea – but we can at least fly to another part of the planet! Just let me unlock the Ebon Hawk, then we're getting outta here."

I could hear the tapping sound of his fingers on the console. His legs were right in front of me, encased in a grotesquely purple armour suit I'd seen from the cam feeds. It looked as ostentatious as the rest of his gross palace.

I was holding my breath, feeling the dust tickle my nose, and digging my nails into my palms. There was a tinkling sound of light metal clanging on something, followed by the mechanical grind of gears turning.

"A keylock's frakking crap security, Davik," Calo jeered. I saw his armoured legs step closer to the purple-clad ones of Davik. "No encryption, no biometrics... you're just begging for someone walk into this room and pinch your ship."

"That's where you're wrong, Calo," Davik replied. "Who knows how to pick a traditional lock these days? Hah, who would even notice it, in among the controls?"

Whoa. Davik had locked the security with a key? Like, an actual, metal, cut-out key? Maybe the purple crime lord was right. I hadn't even noticed any sort of archaic locking interface. Better hope the 'Hawk itself doesn't have the same lock-

Although, with Teethree humming quietly at my side, I realized that wouldn't be a problem. It'd take Teethree less than a millisec to pick a keylock, now that I knew to look for it. Maybe Calo was right, too.

"Hey Davik," Calo said slowly. His weight shifted from foot to foot. "What are the security cams doing up on the screen?"

Terror danced a jerryjig down my spine. My teeth bit deep into my lip, hard enough that the coppery tang of blood filled my mouth.

"No idea," Davik muttered. "And no time to worry about it. No one could've entered the Ebon Hawk until now. Which means we need to haul jets. Let's go!"

The two men turned and strode from the room. I waited for about five seconds, and then crawled out and ran straight to the closet.

"Looks like they did the job for us, Big Z," I whispered, as he rumbled in concern at me. "We better hope Canderous is already at the 'Hawk."

Big Z nodded in assent, already loping to the exit. "(Stay behind me, Mission)."

I whistled sharply to Teethree, sent out a brief mental plea for the safety of the others, and followed my best friend out the door.

xXx

Davik Kang:

I ran down the hallway as my beautiful estate crumbled around me, damning the Sith with each step I took. Calo sprinted beside me, a trusted merc for now. For now. Calo was as dangerous as Canderous - and just as ambitious.

That's the problem with all these damn mercs. Sooner or later they start getting ideas. Thinking above their station. And that's when it's time to make sure something job knocks 'em down for good.

We turned into my hangar, and the first thing I noticed was a smoking, gaping hole where my blast doors should have stood. Beyond-

The acrid stench of molten durasteel blew in from outside. I gaped at the burning buildings I could see, bordered by the rubble of my own hangar. Most of one wall had been obliterated by an anonymous plasma drop, and there was no avoiding the sight of Upper Taris crumbling into ruination.

Those blasted Sith!

My gaze darted wildly back within the hangar. My baby... my baby, the Ebon Hawk, was still intact. Untouched. Sitting meek and pretty at the far end of the hangar, like a joygirl waiting for her master.

It was then that I noticed a group of stragglers clustered around her loading ramp.

"Well, look what we got here! Thieves in the hangar," I drawled, slipping a hand over the upgraded blaster on my hip. My focus immediately snapped to the largest figure – a damn Wookiee, of all things. Tough and preternaturally strong, but also simple.

And the Human next to him-

Shavit! Canderous bloody Ordo! I could feel my lips curling up over my teeth, but deliberately moved my hand away from the blaster. I should’ve had Calo take him out days ago. "Canderous. Fancy finding you here, sniffing around my baby. Suppose you thought you could pinch her and leave me high and dry with the Sith turn this planet into dust?”

Ordo barked a laugh. “Pretty much, Davik. Figured the ‘Hawk could cover the wages you owe me.”

“I can take care of Ordo,” Calo growled softly at my side. “Leave him to me.”

Oh, that was tempting – and I didn’t underestimate Calo – but there were a few allies standing ground behind that disloyal Mandalorian dog. Not just the Wookiee- a Human soldier, with a pair of blasters at the ready. Two females, both wielding vibroswords, and the younger one looked familiar-

Sithspit! That’s the Jedi prisoner Brejik thought was just a damn officer-!

We were outnumbered, and bloody Ordo had a Jedi on his side.

"Perhaps now isn't the time to fight," I intervened - quickly, before Canderous could start shooting. The dog could be as hot on the trigger as Calo, at times. "We both want to leave Taris, so why don't we work together?" If Canderous was this far, then he'd infiltrated my estate before the Sith started bombing. Which meant... the bastard got the launch codes! And then betrayed me!

But now wasn't the time for vengeance. I'd have to wait until Ordo got me off-planet before finding the opportunity.

But Canderous laughed, loud and mocking, and I understood then that he wasn't going to play nice. "You think I'd trust you again, Davik? Here's one lesson you shoulda' learnt long ago – never kriff with a Mando'ade."

He wrenched that massive gun up. The second I started running, the bastard opened fire.

xXx

Jen Sahara:

Fear and rage pummelled in tandem through my head; it was taking all my possible strength to stop from screaming as a nightmare unfolded all around. Death! Death everywhere! Who am I? I stared in shock at the two men talking to Canderous. I am Jen Sahara! I needed Bastila's support and strength, but she'd been shooting me worried, frightened looks ever since the earlier battle. How did I do that? What's wrong with my mind? I really, really wanted to see the doctor again, but it was just beginning to dawn on me that I probably never would.

Canderous opened fire on the two men facing him, and the one called Calo chucked a handful of grenades. I saw Carth retreat, blasters firing, and heard him yell in pain when one exploded. I clutched my vibrosword with trembling hands, staring at the fight ahead in numb disbelief. An insidious, foreign malevolence was creeping through my thoughts. A desire to rend, to vanquish, to destroy all in my path. No! That's not my feelings! That's just wrong! But a presence inside me, a part of me, had enjoyed killing those earlier men, and the acidic taste of smug satisfaction sat like poison in my mouth.

My vision turned blurry; green smoke was materializing throughout the hangar. I coughed, and covered my mouth with a hand. I heard a muffled puff, and somehow I recognized it as another gas grenade ejecting - despite never having encountered them before. The smokescreen all around me thickened ominously.

Canderous was cursing in Mandalorian, somewhere further ahead. And in front of me, a figure materialized. My eyes widened in horror as I recognized the bounty hunter, Calo Nord.

He swiftly flung an unknown projectile at my chest.

Without any conscious thought, the alien fury took control of my limbs once more, and saved my life as my body dodged sharply to the side. I felt the skin on my face contort and curl into a hideous sneer, and a dark laugh erupted from my lungs. This pathetic worm will die.

"Imbecile!" the sneer bubbled up from my throat. No! No! I am Jen Sahara! The empowering, evil sense of might vanished from my limbs, and I stumbled in mid leap.

But Calo had stopped, frozen; whatever his expression was, it was hidden behind an armoured face mask set with round transparisteel goggles. "Who in the Outer Rim are you? I know you!"

I gulped, and jumped backwards. I'd never seen him before. Had I?

"Never mind," he grunted, his voice resolved once more. "It's your end, Human!" He pulled out a blaster, but just at that moment Bastila jumped out of the smoke in front of me, vibro-staff raised. Calo was sufficiently surprised that she managed to slice into his shoulder. He screamed, stumbled backwards, and spat laser fire at her.

Bastila whirled her blade furiously, and Calo's bolts reflected off the staff and into the surroundings. She pressed her advantage, jumping forward to challenge the bounty hunter.

Calo cursed as he began stumbling backward.

"You'll not kill me, Jedi!" Calo spat, and dropped a grenade at his feet. It hissed, erupted gouts of thick white smoke. Bastila lunged forward a little too late; Calo had already retreated, vanishing into the concealment his grenades provided.

"Davik's dead!" Canderous hollered from somewhere in the room. "Quick! Into the 'Hawk!"

Bastila grabbed my arm, guiding me up the loading ramp of the ship. I stumbled after her, the air thinning as durasteel walls rose to surround us. The pulsing of my heart thundered through me, and my mind was frozen. Who am I? Who am I really? The ship's floors shuddered under my feet as another explosion rocked the surroundings. Bastila's hand came out of her pocket, in a fist that looked like it was concealing something. She pulled me towards her with a rough yank. I stumbled, and felt a sharp prick in my upper arm.

"Don't worry, you'll be safe soon. I promise," Bastila whispered into my ear. A sudden heaviness grew in my limbs, and the black of impending unconsciousness began to creep in around the edges of my vision. A flare of fury ignited in the depths of my psyche, but it was weak and ineffectual against a growing exhaustion. The schutta sedated me! No, no, that sneering voice was evil and wrong. She's a Jedi. She wouldn't do that!

I'm just... so tired.

xXx

Carth Onasi:

My leg throbbed as I stumbled through the gas fog, coughing and breathing shallowly so as not to succumb to the poisonous smoke. I'd heard Canderous crow over Davik's death from somewhere in the room, but I could see nothing bar thick, white smoke. My hand whacked sharply against a hard surface, followed by my head. Ouch. Underneath my fingers, I could feel the durasteel grating of a freighter. The ship! Get moving, Onasi!

I clenched my teeth and squinted through the haze, which was beginning to thin. There – I could just make out the loading ramp - and I stumbled closer, hands outstretched. The hot adrenaline still surged like fire through my veins; it had since the moment we'd entered this damn estate, and ramped up like a furnace once the bombardment started.

A stress reaction was useful, so long as the fight or flight instinct were kept under tight control. Sometimes, the only thing that could get one through a situation was sheer grit.

Time to go fly this rust bucket. I only hope Mission's disabled the locks on the landing gear. I clambered inside, coming across Bastila standing over a crumpled Jen, a resolved look on her face. Jen's fallen again. I didn't know what to make of her anymore. I didn't really want to try. Ever since we landed on Taris, my damn head has been screwed on backwards. I'd never met anyone as mercurial and changeable as blasted Jen Sahara.

Bastila looked up at me sharply, a flash of fright dancing in her eyes.

"S-she fainted!" Bastila exclaimed quickly.

I narrowed my eyes at Bastila's defensive tone. Jen fainting was nothing new to me, but Bastila's reaction didn't stack up, somehow.

"We're back, let's go!" Mission's bright voice from behind startled me.

"Everyone, get in the ship!" I yelled over my shoulder. "I'm heading straight to the cockpit!"

I heard a howl behind me as the Wookiee neared, and Bastila murmured something to him. The dull durasteel interior of the Ebon Hawk greeted me as I rushed deeper into the unfamiliar freighter. I'd have time to become familiar with her later, but she was a medium sized Dynamic-class that was favoured by smugglers, so I had high hopes for her manoeuvrability.

I found the cockpit and settled into the pilot's seat, switching on the controls and locating the onboard communicator. A faint humming permeated the air as the electrics dazzled into life, and I leaned forward to speak through the internal comm.

"Everyone get strapped in! I'm taking her out, and it's going to be rough!" Outside the ferracrystal cockpit window the hangar doors had been blasted open, and a scene of devastating carnage met my eyes. I didn't have time to dwell on the burning Tarisian landscape, but I knew what it would look like further afield. I knew the signs of war all the well. I hope Mission doesn't see this. Damn those murdering Sith!

As I began prepping the freighter for take-off, Bastila entered the cock-pit, breathless, and squeezed into the co-pilot's chair. I gave her a brief smile, and hoped the Jedi had had some navigational experience.

The ship's self-diagnostic beeped, and a ready status blinked on the console. I fired up the engines. The turbine compressor started with a high-pitched whirring, building up pressure for the fusion engines to kick into life. Bastila strapped herself in tightly, and I flicked open the comm again.

"I'm heading out," I said calmly as the engines roared to life beneath us. The ship lifted, and a sense of satisfaction filled me as we shot out of the burning estate.

Bastila gasped; fiery buildings were visible on all sides, and a scraper toppled precariously in front of us as I banked the 'Hawk sharply to the right and up, up into the sky. We left the ruins of civilization behind, but plasma fire still spat down from the heavens on all sides. I veered upwards, weaving beneath the bombardment that I saw, but clouds of smoke hung heavy in the sky and it would be luck that would get us out of here in one piece.

"Get the droid to transmit the launch codes on all external frequencies," I said through gritted teeth. "I've got my hands full."

Bastila nodded, and reached for the communicator, relaying my order. I didn't dare raise the 'Hawk too high until it was done; the Sith's automatic defense array activated in the upper atmosphere, and that was deadlier than playing chance with plasma fire.

The astromech droid beeped behind us, plugging into a bypass slot on the side of the cockpit wall. A moment later and the navigation console indicated the codes were being sent. I sighed in relief, raising the 'Hawk's nose high into space.

"Plug in the hyperspace co-ordinates for Alderaan," I told Bastila, my eyes still fixed through the window as blue slowly darkened into black. We'd eased away from the bombardment, and it looked like the codes had worked. "We need to reach hyperspace as soon as we're out of the gravity well."

"We will head to Dantooine," Bastila informed me as she leaned towards the navigational panel.

"What?" I snapped, and then ahead, I saw we had company. A group of snubfighters materialized into view, and laser fire shot out towards us. I twisted the ship sharply to the side, and heard Bastila gasp in protest at the jolt.

"There's a Jedi enclave there where we can find refuge!" Bastila replied as she started tapping in our destination.

"I thought you said – oh, nevermind," I veered in the other direction, and then the ship shuddered briefly. A warning light blinked on the console. That was a hit. Dammit. I accelerated to maximum, and flicked open the communicator.

"Incoming fighters!" I yelled. "Canderous, Mission, to the turrets! I need a few minutes before we can reach hyperspace!"

xXx

Canderous Ordo:

"Got ya!" I yelled in victory, as I twisted the gun controls around to find another easy target. "These Sith fighters are too puny!"

Mission Vao was seated in the turret control opposite mine, but so far had failed to shoot down a single enemy ship. And there were a lot out there.

"Hey, kid, would you start firing already?"" I grunted at her. These fighters are the weak sentries of the Sith, but there's too many of them. She's gotta sharpen up!

"Look, I ain't never used one of these before!" she snapped back. "And I'm not a kid!"

"Just aim and shoot – it's kriffing child's play," I retorted derisively as another ship came into view. I let loose on the turrets, and fire danced from the enemy fighter.

"I'm trying, okay?" she screamed back. "Look, my home is getting bombed! Cut me some slack!"

"No time for snivelling, girl!" I rapped back. "The best way to honour your loved ones is to kill their enemies! So go shoot kriffing Sith!"

An answering fire from the Twi'lek's guns sounded through the turret room, and I hoped I'd finally gotten through to her. Until she sobbed.

"They're all dying down there!" she whined annoyingly, and dropped the controls.

Haar'chak. I kept my aim on the targeting area, but could feel my face creasing in annoyance. "I thought you were stronger than this. Maybe you are just a kid," I growled.

"Shut up, you old geezer!" she shrieked. "You don't care about anyone! You don't understand!"

I tried to remind myself that she was just a girl. Maybe, just this once, she can get away with that sort of comment. I understood grief, but it had its time and place. Not here, not now. "If you truly care about those weaklings on Taris, then you will kill as many of their murderers as you can, kid. These Sith fighters are busy destroying your planet, and all you can do is whine and moan about it?"

I heard her breathe in abruptly, and pressed my verbal attack. My fingers were getting slightly numb on the controls. "Look – we're gonna die if we don't give Republic the time he needs to enter hyperspace. Do me a favour and pull yourself together. Kill some of your friend's murderers while you're at it." I dragged my attention away from the kid's pathetic state, and focused purely on the incoming fighters. I'll just have to do this myself.

A few seconds later, and I heard the barrage of Mission Vao's guns flare up once more. About time.

"I got one!" she yelled at me. Her tone had turned angry, and my responding grin was a feral one.

"Good. Now get another one of the bastards!" I commanded.

All at once, the ship shuddered with an explosion. I cursed, and the Twi'lek girl bit off a scream as we were both yanked to the side.

Onasi's voice flickered over the ships speakers. "No serious damage. Our external communications are down. Prepare for the hyperspace jump."

I braced myself; the dancing light of enemy fire dazzled fleetingly into bright white as the ship launched into hyperspace.

xXx

Zelka Forn:

A loud hammering on the inside door sounded again, threatening and insistent, drowned out only by the explosive quaking of yet another bombardment destroying a nearby part of Taris. I cursed, bracing myself against the chrome medical bench, as a bed behind me toppled over and spilled an injured citizen to the ground unceremoniously. He screamed.

The flickering lighting came back on fully as the bombing subsided, but it would start up again soon. I could only hope for survival, and help any as best I could.

"Doctor Forn!" a loud female voice yelled from outside the bolted door. I'd secured it after Gurney had showed up with half a dozen Exchange thugs, intent on looting all medical supplies in the wake of the Sith bombing. A nearby explosion had caved in the front entrance of the facility, smothering him with rubble, and giving me the chance to retreat to my inner sanctum. "Open up, or we shall blow this door wide open! We need the supplies, and the Upper City is not safe!"

"Go away, you wretched thieves!" I yelled back, falling to my knees to examine the patient who'd toppled to the ground. He was moaning, semi-conscious, blood bubbling from a corner of his mouth. I had to hope that was due to his facial bruising, rather than one of his broken ribs inflicting internal injuries. "Opportunistic scum!"

The man in front of me needed a bacta tank, but they were all full. And in the case of an explosion hitting the medical facility, immersion in bacta fluid while hooked up to the controlling computer would make one all the more vulnerable. I sighed.

"Zelka Forn, the door is lined with permacrete detonators, and we are exploding the charge in ten seconds. Stand back!"

I gasped, turning to stare in horror at the secured durasteel door. Were there no depths that some people would not sink to? In the midst of such planet-wide tragedy, how could sentients turn into such depraved, selfish monsters?

"Five seconds!" the female voice called commandingly. My feet scrabbled backwards of their own accord, away from the door, away from the injured patients that were too close to the oncoming blast-

The durasteel smashed open in a loud explosion of light and tearing metal, and I threw my arms up to cover my face, even as my ears rang from the cacophony and minor shards of debris slammed into me. I fell back, winded, and briefly passed out.

When my eyes opened, a heavily armoured pale blue Twi'lek woman was standing over me, a blaster pointed at my head. Her face was composed. Around her, I saw armoured sentients rifling through every drawer and cupboard, hastily stuffing all they could into pockets and rucksacks and utility belts. My face tightened in disgust.

"Zelka Forn," the Twi'lek said steadily. "Your reputation precedes you as a medical professional with both compassion and integrity. The Beks could do with someone like you, if you are inclined to overcome your distaste at our methods."

My mouth dropped open, in disbelief at her utter gall, perhaps. In the distance, the booming noise of more plasma smashing through parts of Taris could be heard.

"The Beks," I muttered in disgust. "First the Exchange, and now a swoop gang. Disaster brings out the scum of society, it seems."

The Twi'lek stared at me unblinkingly. "You're an idiot if you believe you can survive or help others up here, Zelka Forn. What's left of the Tarisian National Fleet is overwhelmed, if they haven't fled. Any aid from the Republic will be days away, maybe weeks. If you want to live your only chance is lower down, in some of the permacrete bunkers close to the Undercity. This is where the Beks will survive, and help any others who do, too."

Her gaze was hard, and devoid of any emotion. "Help?" I snorted in disbelief. I had no time for any of the Lower City gangs. All too often, I'd patched up the injuries caused by them, to innocents or to other gang members. "You lot help others?"

For the first time, the woman's face tightened in irritation. "I have shot people for less," she muttered, before sighing. "It's your choice, Zelka Forn. We will take the medical supplies for the people of the Lower City, those who are so often ignored by you Upper City snobs. Believe me when I say that you will not survive if you stay topside." She stepped backwards, allowing me room to stand. My gaze fell on an armoured gang member rummaging through a small basket on my desk.

"Hey," I protested, walking closer. "Drop that! Those are medical samples!" The Zeltron in question looked up and frowned as I strode closer. A handful of vials and hypoderms spilled onto the desk's surface, and I picked them up quickly. One 'derm was a mild violet colour; I recognized it as that strange sample the unstable Jen Sahara had given me. I pocketed it quickly into my medical kit.

"Boss, the southwest quadrant has collapsed," a Rodian spoke from the door, staring at the communicator on his wrist. "The main thrust of the bombardment is headed this way. We've gotta get down to the Undercity, before all routes are blocked."

"Finish up!" the Twi'lek woman in charge called. "Grab everything you can, we're leaving in two!" She stared at me again, striding forward to speak. "Last chance, Zelka Forn. Come with us, and you'll be free to help injured survivors in relative safety, as per the code you would have trained by. I can promise you the protection of the Beks, and we have some medical equipment, if not what you're used to." Her lips thinned before she continued. "Or we shall leave you here to take your chances against the Sith bombs."

I stared at her in silence for a moment, as the sounds of destruction further afield were once more audible. I could feel the background vibration of explosions tearing up parts of Upper Taris and I knew, in my gut, that I would not survive here.

Lower down I might be able to help others, even if it meant throwing my lot in with a swoop gang of all things.

The gang members were finishing up, coming to surround the Twi'lek leader who was still waiting for my decision, impatience beginning to show upon her pale blue face. I gave her a brief nod, unwilling to speak, and she smiled a hard smile at me.

"Good," she said quietly. "I am Zaerdra. Now come! Follow me."

xXx

Bastila Shan:

I breathed a sigh of relief as the ship lurched forward, that minute-long pull of acceleration before it settled into the automatic thrum of hyperspace travel. Finally. Finally I can relax somewhat. My shoulders felt like knotted coils of stiffened rope, and my throat was dry and stiff.

Carth groaned in the pilot's chair, and slumped forward.

"Good work," I said softly. My eyes closed. "That did not look easy."

"Why, thank you," his response was dry, but not unfriendly, and I felt him move next to me. "I need some caffa. I hope Davik's fully supplied this ship."

"So do I," I replied, opening my gaze to look at him. Carth was busy undoing his harness. "Crime lords would usually plan for unexpected situations, so I believe our chances are good."

Carth gave me a nod of acknowledgement before standing. "I'll go see if you're right, because we have thirty-five hours before we hit Dantooine. Enough time for everyone to get hungry." He made to move around me, and then I spotted the blood on his leg. And his limp.

"Carth, you're injured!" I exclaimed in worry.

"Yes. Hanging around you and crazy Jen is getting more and more hazardous to my health," he muttered under his breath, combing a hand through his thick dark hair.

"Let me help," I offered, and it was automatic to reach out to the Force and submerge his limb. He winced and jumped backwards, eyes flashing irritation at me.

"Dammit, Bastila, you could at least ask first!" he protested, backing away.

I lifted an eyebrow at his objection, and his response was an angry scowl. Ever since Revan had started behaving... well, more and more like she should, Carth had been in a permanent black mood.

"I… apologize, Carth," I said in puzzlement. "I assumed you would desire my services."

"I'll be right back," he muttered as he walked out of the cockpit.

I sighed, and slouched back into the chair. I had not meant to earn Carth's ire, but I had thought anyone would appreciate Force healing. Canderous had not desired it earlier, either, and perhaps I needed to learn from that. I sighed a second time. Sometimes, it seemed like social niceties and customs were both foreign and nonsensical to me.

Now that immediate danger had passed, my mind curtailed back to the primary source of my fright. Greater than Davik's forces, greater than the Sith bombardment. Darth Revan. I'd felt it, I'd seen her face, I'd tasted it through the bond. There was no doubt about it, some spark of the former Sith Lord remained in the shell, and it was mind-linked to me.

Revan's scathing words hissed earlier to Davik's thugs came back to torment me cruelly. Pathetic weakling! You can't best me! Exactly what she had once said to me. Just after she had cut down Master Kester and Master Jai'lel.

My eyes closed wearily, and the taste of fear was sour in my mouth. Darth Revan is coming back. Galdea and Vima had assured me it was nigh impossible, but something had changed. Something had gone awry. And without Master Galdea's supervision, or any of the Jedi Knights accompanying me on the Endar Spire, I was all alone with an amnesiac Sith Lord.

There is no emotion; there is peace. I breathed in deep, and forced myself to a calm state. While I would give anything to have one of my former companions back - my dear friend Kylah perhaps, or Master Galdea for his wisdom and knowledge - I was a member of the Jedi Order, and I would impart myself as such. We had made it from Taris, and that was a victory in itself. Whatever cracks were appearing in the façade of Jen Sahara could be fixed on Dantooine. As soon as they locate Knight Vima or Master Karon, an inner voice monologued irritably. For the two other Jedi involved in the personality implant were both famed for their wandering ways, and thus unlikely to be at the Enclave. But the personality of Jen Sahara is there, in Revan's mind. It just needs to be strengthened. That is something I can possibly do.

Perhaps, when we reached Dantooine, the masters would allow me a reprieve from babysitting Revan. They have surmised the rough location of the Star Maps on Tatooine and Manaan. Perhaps I will not be needed there. Wouldn't that be lovely. I wasn't foolish enough to pray that I might be able to step out permanently; I understood with hellish trepidation that the bond joining me to Revan meant it was impossible for me to totally avoid the Council's mission.

Would I have saved her, had I known the repercussion would be a Force bond? Would I have left her to die, alone on her flagship, rather than mind-link myself to someone as corrupted as she? I would like to think that I would still have chosen mercy, but in truth I did not know. I did not know.

Surely the Council would understand I needed some time to recuperate, to meditate and find my center, my calm. So much had happened; the deaths of those I cared for, Brejik's violations, and simply the mental trauma of being near Revan. Ever since she rescued me, I find myself acting less and less like a Jedi. Canderous' sarcastic words taunted me. "How very Jedi-like of you, princess." I snapped my eyes open angrily. I detested that loathsome Mandalorian.

But in some ways, he may be correct. I lied to Revan about Alderaan, I tripped Mission using the Force, and now I've sedated Revan. I reminded myself that she was simply too dangerous for me alone to handle, but I could not quite swallow the excuse. She frightens me. That is the truth.

I am scared. I have faced Darth Revan before. I do not wish to do so again. It had been mere luck that Malak had fired upon the ship when he did; happenstance that I'd had warning and Revan had not. For I still did not know who would have won our encounter. Undoubtedly, Darth Revan was far more powerful than I, and my companions had already been killed, but we were duelling through the mental side of the Force… a place where my strength and even experience outweighed hers. Would she have kept challenging me so, had her old lover not intervened? For all that Darth Revan had to do was pull her mind back, activate her lightsaber and attack, and I would have been lost. Without Kester and Jai'lel, I would not have had a chance.

But it was a mystery I might never know the answer to. I pushed away the memory of how frightened I had been in that encounter, and told myself over and over that I was strong, I was confident, I was capable. I am weak, and scared, my mind echoed back. I wondered briefly if Revan had ever felt that way. She always seemed so sure of herself and what she was doing. I could never fathom why someone so bright and powerful would turn to the decaying road of the Dark Side. I had tried to understand, before she had regained consciousness as Jen Sahara. The old memory resurfaced, and I could still see Revan's broken body strapped down into the Enclave's life support system, tubes feeding kolto and nutrients and sedation into her body.

…

"Why do you think Revan and Malak turned to the Dark Side?" I asked softly over Revan's comatose body. I'd heard many theories, and formulated my own, but I was especially interested in Master Karon's viewpoint. After all, the Zabrak had been one of three involved in the rebuilding of Revan's mind, and was also the Sith Lord's first master.

Master Karon sighed softly, her turquoise eyes troubled. "It is not merely one thing, Padawan. It is a complex set of issues. Although certainly, your own master always argues that their age worked against them."

I nodded; Master Vrook was a vehement believer that Jedi needed to be brought to the Order young, while their emotions could still be moulded and their familial ties cut. Attachment was a danger to all Force users.

"They could count fifteen galactic years when you found them, is that right, Master Karon?"

"Sixteen," the Zabrak corrected quietly. "We have learned from the past, and normally would not train sentients at such an age. Or if we did, we would do so very slowly and warily."

"So why the exception?" The meteoric rise of Revan and Malak through the Order was well known. Their training, unlike my own, was the very opposite of slow.

"Their sheer power. It burned and glowed like a supernova." Master Karon looked at me steadily. "I was with the team that went to Talshion, where we first discovered them, and I have never sensed so much raw Force strength in an individual. In them both. Leaving them behind on the streets of a forgotten Outer Rim planet was not an option."

I turned back to face the prone figure, wrapped in a thin if discreet surgical robe. Revan's skin was still pallid from the length of time spent in the bacta tank.

"Do you think they were doomed to fall, then?" I asked. To fall from such heights of heroics… there must have been something innately flawed in them both. There must have.

"No. I do not believe anyone is, Padawan." Master Karon rested her hand gently over Revan's limp and pale one. The Sith markings had begun to fade with her disconnect from the Force. The bond allowed me that control - to separate her from the Force - once Master Galdea and Knight Vima had worked out how. Their tutelage had been enlightening, and I could now manipulate the Force that connected me to Revan.

Provided she did not know it was there, Revan – no, Jen Sahara - would have no reason to suspect she could access the Force, or that there was a barrier in the way.

"The War, too, played a part in their fall," Karon continued, her voice soft. "For no one can go through the horrors of battle and remain untouched. The decisions that Revan had to make as a general – that all the Jedi Thirteen were forced into as they led troops against the Mandalorians – would have caused scars on their souls. War is harder for Force sensitives, Padawan. The Order knows this. We feared what would happen if Jedi once more walked the battlegrounds of men."

I nodded. The Order had forbidden any Jedi to fight in the War, and Revan and Malak disobeyed that twice. Once, for a year-long reconnaissance mission. Twice, with dozens of Jedi Knights following them, the brightest forming the Jedi Thirteen - the Jedi leaders who worked with the Republic commanders against the Mandalorians.

"But my belief is their forbidden love was the primary factor." Karon's voice was so low now I struggled to hear it. "Passion clouds one's judgement. It is hard to remain logical and serene when in love. Perhaps if we had separated them from the outset, things may have been different, but Zhar and I feared what such separation may do to two so emotionally intertwined with one another. Perhaps we were wrong. "

Master Zhar had been Malak's master once. Kind and affable, he and Karon were lifelong friends, so it was only natural that they would take on Revan and Malak together. Revan and Malak, who were childhood friends and teenage lovers before the Jedi found them. Perhaps Master Karon and Master Zhar expected Revan and Malak's passion to fade away to something like the camaraderie they themselves shared. But anyone who had ever met Revan or Malak before their fall would know what emotive characters they had been – they were nothing like the calm Karon Enova or the gentle Zhar Lestin. "It is a good lesson about the pitfalls of passion, is it not, Master Karon?"

She nodded. "Yes. But the consequences..." she sighed again. "Once, Revan Freeflight's ultimate goal was the stability and peace of the Republic. Yet she did her best to destroy it. Once, Malak Devari's overriding desire in life was Revan's happiness and safety. Yet he tried to kill her, and believes he has. That is the Dark Side for you, Padawan." Her turquoise eyes stared at me unblinkingly. "It grants you power quickly, promises you everything you desire, and then twists you and one day you find yourself destroying that which was once the most important to you."

I shivered.

"The personality rebuild is now complete, is it not?" I asked. After all this talk, some reassurance would be beneficial to my state of mind. Although Knight Vima had already told me of its success, and there was no denying Vima Sunrider's expertise, I was content to hear the results a second time.

"Yes. The persona of Jen Sahara has been successfully implanted, with some of the original Jen's memories repressed, of course," she told me. I winced. I had seen what the Sith had done to the scholar before she had died of her injuries in the Enclave.

"How have you linked Jen Sahara to the Order?"

"A few artificial memories intertwined with Jen's history." Karon took a step away from the body on the medical bed, smiling tiredly at me. She wished to leave, now, I could tell. "I do believe the Council will tell you more, Padawan, when they speak to you later this afternoon."

I nodded, and Karon left me there, staring at the empty shell of a monster. I spent more time in talks with the Council than sleeping, it seemed, since I came back from Deralia with a brain damaged Sith Lord mind-linked to me. While I desired more acknowledgement within the Order, being this close to the corrupted soul of Darth Revan seemed a heavy price to pay.

…

I opened my eyes again, and stared blankly out at the empty blackness of hyperspace, cut through with lines of white. Soon the masters will take care of Revan. I can strengthen Jen Sahara long enough for the personality to hold, and the masters will do more. Dantooine was less than two standard days away, and the sedation may last for as long as twenty hours of that, if I was lucky. And provided Jen Sahara's life was not in immediate danger, it did not seem like Darth Revan would resurface.

It will not be long until this trial is over. I could do this. I could.

And I would.

xXx

Calo Nord:

My damaged ship was slowly being pulled in by the Sith's trajectory beam, and I scowled at the wait. It had taken enough convincing to stop those diseased bastards from blowing me into space-dust to begin with. But I hadn't had the launch codes, and they were pretty trigger-happy up there, firing on anything that dared escape the mess they were making on Taris.

I had hoped to fly from Taris in Davik's baby, the Ebon Hawk. I'd co-piloted it with Davik before, and she was a sleek thing, the 'Hawk: quick, manoeuvrable, and with more shielding than a freighter her size should boast. I'd even packed the cargo hold full of kit in preparation: food, equipment, armour – all the essentials. The plan was to take some of Davik's top mercs and blast off Taris before the crime lord had even realized I'd gone. End him too, if I scored the chance. Davik had turned on Ordo quick enough, after all. I wasn't fool enough to think I was immune from his suspicion.

Seems like that Mandalorian scum had the same idea as me. Oh, Ordo would get what was coming to him, one day. No one walked away from Calo Nord and survived for long. I'd make him pay and take the 'Hawk back, make him burn or suffocate or drown in one of those ways his stupid people considered dishonourable.

Death is death, whether you're Mandalorian or Twi'leki or Zeltron. Idiot.

But first, I had to appease the Sith. It was the Leviathan pulling me in, an Interdictor-class heavy cruiser built back during the Mandalorian Wars, and probably the most famous ship in Darth Malak's fleet. The Leviathan meant Admiral Karath – a man I'd read a lot about even if I'd never met him. Strategically brilliant, he'd switched sides along with Jedi Knight Revan Freeflight, and was one of the reasons Darth Revan had been so successful. From what I knew, his loyalty had been to Revan rather than Malak, and I doubted whether Darth Revan's demise had made the admiral particularly happy.

Although, by then Darth Revan was getting trigger-happy and ice-cold. Just like Darth Malak was becoming unhinged, if not insane. I'd met Malak before. I'd completed a prep job for him on Deralia about a year ago, but his own idiot Dark Jedi had botched the implementation. Embroiling oneself in a squabble between Sith Lords went deep into the territory of suicidal - but, well. I hadn't known at the time his true target had been Revan. And the credits involved had been... more than alluring.

It all went belly-up, though. Deralia had been all but flattened, Darth Revan had walked away unscathed, and I vanished, deciding the risk of either Sith Lord's vengeance wasn't worth the missing credits. The Dark Jedi involved, I understood, had been cut down by Revan herself – even including Arran Da'klor, and he'd been one of the famed Jedi Thirteen.

It worked out to Malak's advantage in the end, though, for Bastila Shan's secret strike force were in the area and used the ensuing chaos to attack Darth Revan – and then Darth Malak fired on her ship simultaneously. So, Malak had the outcome he wanted anyway, but I wasn't willing to test the bounds of his forgiveness, and gave up the commission without a second glance despite the fact I'd successfully completed my part.

Now, I had a choice between dealing with an unknown – Admiral Karath – or asking him to hail Darth Malak and speak to the Sith Lord myself. The news that Bastila Shan escaped Taris would be worth something, surely. It wasn't my fault that Arran Da'klor kriffed things up so badly a year ago, and lost Malak a dozen or so of his stronger Dark Jedi. Surely the Dark Lord of the Sith would understand that. I'd recognized Captain Carth Onasi with Shan as well – another survivor from the Endar Spire, and a mildly famous one to boot, even if his significance paled when compared to Shan's. In my line of work it paid to remember faces, and the Republic captain was an easy one to recall.

Darth Malak might even be willing to send me on another mission, this time tailing the Ebon Hawk and killing or capturing her crew. I felt the beginnings of a smile. That meant going after Canderous Ordo, and I'd be willing to do that for no credits. I'd have to list the other crew members – that Bek brat, Mission Vao, no danger there. A Wookiee was strong, but easily dispatched by surprise. And then there was that crazy woman Bastila had saved…

I frowned as I tried to recollect her features. A strange sense of familiarity had clouded me when I faced her, when her features had contorted into that ugly, malevolent sneer. I knew her name – Jen Sahara – and that she had braved the Vulkars to rescue Bastila Shan. So there was a connection there, a strong one it seemed. They've saved each other's lives, but she's not a Jedi. So why did she seem so familiar? I frowned in concentration as I rifled through my memories. I prided myself on my photographic memory, and it was annoying that this stupid woman eluded my grasp.

It was that expression I have seen before, the hatred in the eyes. But green… the eyes weren't green.

A recollection from the dredges of my mind resurfaced...

…

I followed Darth Malak out of the command centre, greed and unease clashing in my head. It was an impressive amount the Sith Lord was offering me but... Getting involved in Dark Jedi politics is liable to end ones life. I was beginning to doubt the ease with which Malak assured me this trap could be laid. If I had known the full extent of this job beforehand, I would never have agreed.

It was too late now. Malak was sure to kill me if I opted out. I'd just have to make sure I succeeded.

"Malak," a deep female voice called up ahead, and Darth Malak stopped in front of me, his black cloak swirling around him.

He bowed. "Master," he acknowledged gravely.

Just the person I didn't want to run into. I cursed inwardly, as the Dark Lord of the Sith herself walked around her apprentice and appraised me. She wore no mask, for once, just a midnight hood casting her face into obscure shadows.

Her black eyes were pits of soullessness in a marked face of depravity. Unfamiliar fright iced my spine as I suddenly felt pinned by that gaze, helpless as a tach beneath a spear, staring into the depths of perdition.

Kiribi is 099,099,011, I thought desperately. Saleucami is 08,05,29. Coruscant is 0,0,0. I continued on, forcing my mind to rattle off a litany of hyperspace coordinates, focusing on the numbers and nothing else.

There were certain mental tricks one could do to fly under the radar of a mental Force probe. It wouldn't stop an overt psychic attack, but it might be enough to convince her of my insignificance.

Maybe.

"And who is this?" she rapped out.

"His name is Calo Nord, Master," Malak said smoothly. "He is a renowned bounty hunter, and I have hired him to infiltrate the smuggling ring around Exinar."

The lies glided effortlessly out of Malak's mouth. I couldn't look away from those swirling lightless eyes, and I saw the birth of malevolence, of rage, darker than all the hells in the galaxy, burning in her black, black eyes.

"You're moving against Exinar without informing me?" Her voice had dropped to a raspy, dangerous tone. The hairs on my neck stood up, and I wouldn't have been able to speak even had she demanded it.

"Of course not, Master." Malak tilted his head in concession. "We are at the planning stage only. I would not take another step further without consulting you."

"Good." The word was a hiss. And then, like a flick of a switch, the fury in those eyes vanished. A smirk twisted her shadowed face. "Perhaps you can now. Come with me."

She turned and walked away, and Malak followed.

…

A feeling of shocked disbelief whirled inside my mind. No, it can't be! Can it? The eyes were different... but the look was the same. The same hideous, twisted, fury. I quickly recalled the structure of Jen Sahara's face, and tried to match it in my mind. Darth Revan's skin was sickly, pale white. But the cheekbones are the same. Identical slanting eyes, and standard forehead. Small nose, and pointed chin.

Bastila was protecting Jen Sahara. Bastila was the one who faced Darth Revan, and somehow escaped Lord Malak's attack. Was it possible that Bastila had also saved the life of Darth Revan herself? The Jedi are cowering fools. Is it conceivable that the Jedi somehow rescued Darth Revan, and now have her under their power?

The similarities in her face were too close. And that same look of rage...

Darth Malak needs to be told about this.

xXx

Chapter Text

Refuge Denied

- Carth Onasi -

I sipped my caffa slowly as I stared blankly out the cockpit window. I found it almost hard to believe that we'd actually made it – recovered Bastila and escaped a Sith blockade – and were now on our way to safety. It seemed that everything had fallen perfectly together in one last rush. Even the hit to the Ebon Hawk was minor; the astromech droid had confirmed what was displaying on the navicomputer – other than our communications relay, the rest of the ship was sound.

It was the devastation we'd left behind that stopped me from feeling any joy. It didn't matter how many times I'd seen this sort of onslaught, it was always the damn same – innocent people being slaughtered under the banner of conquest. Every time I was confronted with the burning ruins of civilization, I only had to close my eyes and it would morph into the ruins of Telosian architecture.

Telos. My home planet. Bombed into oblivion by the Sith three years ago, so viciously that the atmosphere acidified and left it uninhabitable. I forcibly turned my thoughts away, unwilling to, yet again, dwell on the darkest part of my past.

But Taris… it'd been hit before, during the Mandalorian Wars, and had survived the economic aftermath only by negotiating an uneasy truce with the Sith. There'd been a push in the Senate to offer Taris Republic status some years back. Its geographic location near some of the primary hyperspace routes in the Outer Rim made it a logistical gem, but as I understood it, too much political wrangling on both sides had deadlocked that suggestion. I sighed. Republic citizenship may have alleviated this mess, or the Sith may have simply attacked earlier, when the escape pods of the Endar Spire had first rained down on Taris.

My eyes slid to Bastila, who was deep in thought, knees tucked up under her chin in the co-pilot's chair. She looked young, so young, even though I knew her to be in her mid-twenties. The Sith attacked to get at her. It was a grim thought, but I couldn't think of any other objective. Darth Malak had laid waste to the Endar Spire, all to capture Bastila. When she escaped to Taris, the Sith descended and quarantined the planet. Had Malak's patience worn thin enough that he'd fire on a neutral planet just in the hopes of killing one Jedi? But Bastila Shan wasn't just one Jedi. She was an emerging icon of Jedi heroism, whether she knew it or not. Her star was rising, much like Revan's and Malak's once had, and the galactic news loved nothing more than to speculate on the strength of her battle meditation.

I'd seen the effects of her talents before, and it was hard to explain. Every soldier affected felt braver, their focus sharper, and their reflexes honed. Somehow, risky manoeuvres paid off, while the defense of the Sith would blunder, seemingly stymied by relatively weak attacks. Battle meditation couldn't pull victory out from a lost cause, but it could tip the scales. And it had, more than once.

Which made it all the more questionable why the Jedi and the Republic would risk her on a secret mission. I'd had little success at gaining any information about why the Endar Spire had been travelling to Tatooine, other than the standard Jedi Business riposte. I'd been a figurehead there, ostensibly keeping an eye on the pilots, but in reality doing a terrible job at engaging the Jedi onboard in any sort of tactical discussion. I grimaced, glancing back to Bastila again. She had been conspicuous with her absence back then, avoiding most of the command discussions and leaving them to Master Galdea, the senior Jedi who blandly stated on numerous occasions that Bastila was the effective commander of the mission. It seemed like he wanted to ensure Bastila had authority, in case she was ever required to make snap decisions without any consultation.

I frowned. That didn't really make sense, either, although I assumed it had something to do with her battle meditation again. I wondered if, now that we had idle time, it would be possible to draw her into conversation.

"So," I began, feeling slightly awkward. "Dantooine. You mentioned a Jedi enclave?"

Bastila blinked, as if coming out from deep thought, and turned to face me. "I- yes. It is not widely known. The home of the Order is located on Coruscant, of course, but we do have Enclaves and Academies further afield. Dantooine is my home Enclave."

I nodded. "It seems our communications are down, so we won't be able to give anyone fore-knowledge of our arrival."

"Oh," she replied, and looked a little lost.

I grunted. I would have liked to contact Admiral Dodonna after these weeks of silence, but hyperspace communication wasn't the most reliable at the best of times. A warble from behind had us both turning to face the astromech, and a message illuminated briefly on a small display panel he was facing towards us.

"The relay's totally fried," I muttered, reading his second diagnostic. "No comms at all, no chance of repairing it onboard without replacement parts, even if we had a mechanic. Sourcing the parts shouldn't be a problem on Dantooine." The rest was the same as earlier; apart from some minor damage to the hull's main shields, the ship was fine. "As long as a lack of comms isn't a problem landing."

"Dantooine is a farming community. We may receive a fine and reprimand for not announcing our atmospheric entry, but that can be resolved once we dock," Bastila answered. I nodded in response. Some ports were overtly hostile to incoming traffic that didn't negotiate with spaceport control. Manaan tended to claim control of any unknown ships, while Nar Shaddaa just fired on everything that hadn't paid in advance.

"From there, what happens to the ship? The crew?"

"What do you mean, Carth?" Bastila replied, frowning. I sighed at her ignorance. She was either showing a remarkable lack of foresight, or she was too deep in whatever Jedi ruminations were running through her mind to adequately consider our situation.

"Look, the Mandalorian is liable to claim the ship is his and do a runner. Mission's just lost her home." That made me pause. She'd be taking it terribly, all her friends behind, with no knowledge if they survived the bombardment. I'd have to go check on her soon. "I- I guess she and Zaalbar are going to follow Jen, who's not exactly acting like herself in case you hadn't noticed."

Bastila's face had paled, and whether it was due to the thought of Ordo pinching the 'Hawk or Jen's erratic behaviour I didn't know. Jen was still out cold, I'd found out earlier when I'd brewed a quick cup of caffa in the kitchenette. It had been hours since the hyperspace jump, and her injuries from the mad dash through Davik Kang's stronghold had been minor – she should have been awake by now. Maybe her body needed a break from acting like different people. I scowled.

"Jen is one of my crew," Bastila said at last, and her voice was quiet and low. "Her employment contract is with the Jedi Order, and she is under our protection."

I could feel my brows lowering with irritation. Not so long ago, Jen had seemed determined to run; run from Bastila and the Jedi and the Republic. It had disappointed me… angered me, even, that she'd turn her back on a mission so obviously critical to the war effort, even if I didn't understand why her skill set would assist the likes of Bastila Shan. But now, this meek game she was playing… and, it had to be a game. The only other conclusion would be that Bastila was using the Force to manipulate Jen into submission. Bastila was uptight, inexperienced and occasionally snappish, but the thought of Bastila manipulating the Force like that on Jen seemed bordering on paranoia.

Even though I'd known Jedi in the past who'd turned into monsters they never would have dreamed of, it was a lot more likely that reckless Jen was the one at fault here. And that bugged me. Scratch that, Onasi, how about it straight out pisses you off. Our interactions had hardly been peaceful, but I owed Jen my life, as much as she owed me hers. She was amazingly competent, scholar or not, and would be an asset to the war effort. She'd be better off fighting as a soldier than helping the Jedi with research. It just didn't… fit with her character.

Except it did, back on the Endar Spire,I realized that with a cold clarity that had me straightening in my seat. I'd seen her only a few, brief times; only taken note of her really because her transfer onboard had been at the direct order of the Jedi team, and the lack of any other scholars made it stand out. I recalled her, once or twice, blushing in my direction before scurrying away, but all those impressions had disappeared since our explosive crash landing on Taris and the days that followed.

She was the epitome of a quiet, shy scholar from a backwater planet, then. And that is exactly how she has been acting since we rescued Bastila. No, no, it was the day after Bastila joined us, but the timing might still be significant. I frowned. Do the Jedi scare her for some reason? The thought of the Jen Sahara I knew running scared seemed ridiculous. But she wanted to run from Bastila. Is this some game to lull Bastila into complacency before she runs?

I didn't like thinking ill of Jen, which was stupid in itself, considering how reckless her words and actions sometimes were. My thoughts were turning full circle in on themselves, and the introspection was starting to irritate. But, just as I decided that it was time to leave the cockpit, Bastila spoke up.

"What do you think of Jen, Carth?"

I twitched slightly at the question, unnerved how accurate it was with my current thoughts, and bit out a blatant lie. "I generally try not to."

I turned to see Bastila raising an eyebrow at me. "Really, Carth. You've been working with her for what- weeks now? Surely you must have some idea of her character."

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. It was getting long, I realized, and overdue for a cut. "I don't know. She's a loose cannon, Bastila. I mean…" I trailed off, still trying to figure the damn woman out in my head. "I just can't imagine her locked up in some learning institute, studying."

Bastila's voice turned tentative. "Has she been very angry?"

I frowned, turning to look at her. "Angry? Heh. Yeah. She seems to get angry at everything." But that wasn't really fair. Generally, Jen was sassy more than anything. Her inability to take things seriously was, at times, galling, even if it did occasionally lighten the mood. "Maybe that's not entirely true, Bastila. She's reckless more than anything. Brave, too." The rancor in the sewers sprang to mind. "She can be generous." The money she threw away on that harassed merchant was an indicator of that. "Annoying." She had an innate ability to hound and exasperate me. This current meek act was the worst, even if it was directed at Bastila. "Really annoying." Stang, I'm rambling. I sighed. "She's just crazy, Bastila. Recklessly crazy."

Bastila was staring at me with a peculiar expression on her face.

"What?" I snapped.

"Never mind," she replied, but her dark eyes still bored into mine questioningly.

"I'm going to check on Mission." I stood, realizing my departure was somewhat abrupt, but the conversation was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I hadn't yet walked around the freighter, either, although I was already familiar with the layout thanks to the ship's computers.

I left the cockpit and headed down the utilitarian durasteel corridor towards the centre of the ship. A small room, likely the pilot's quarters, was on my left, and further ahead the corridor spilled out into the central common room I'd gone into earlier. It was the largest area in the ship, excluding the cargo bay, and housed a kitchenette on one wall, tatty plimfoam benches around the exterior and a large plasteel table. It was obviously the hub of the freighter, and boasted five exits. One led to a small storage room, and the other four were the main corridors within the ship.

It was empty, although I spotted a dirty dish on the kitchenette bench, and the food synthesizer's heating light was still on. I hadn't thought of eating, yet, not while the destruction of Taris sat so heavy in my mind, but it was comforting to realize that at least we didn't have to worry about the bare necessities.

I briefly poked my head into the small supply room, and was surprised to see a hard bed in there and shelves stocked with medical supplies. At a pinch, this could easily double as a medbay. If this room was anything to go by, then the crime lord Davik Kang had kept his ship well equipped and was used to trouble.

I wandered further around the ship, curious about the cargo bay and it's contents, and stopped when I saw the large form of Canderous throwing what looked suspiciously like short knives at the far wall. What, he doesn't like the décor? After further inspection, I noticed the Mandalorian had hooked up a half-tattered combat suit on the wall that had obviously seen better days. Several knives stuck jaggedly out of it.

"Trying to improve your aim, Ordo?" I muttered.

Canderous turned around to appraise me, and grinned. Before I could blink, he had drawn another knife and thrown it in my direction. I couldn't quite hide a jump of surprise as the blade thwacked into the wall half a metre from my head. It quivered.

"Sithspit!" I growled, glaring at him. "Are you trying to start a fight, Mandalorian?"

He laughed. "If I was, you'd already be down on the floor, Republic."

I scowled at him, inwardly debating the merits of taking this further, before pulling the knife out of the wall with a grunt. It was well balanced and unadorned; a weapon rather than a decoration. I pocketed it and left the room, Canderous' mocking laughter following me down the ship's corridor.

There were two living quarters on either side of the freighter, and it was the port one where I heard the sounds of quiet sobbing. Mission. She was so young to have to deal with something like Taris. Another reason why those Sith bastards had to be stopped by any means possible.

I wasn't sure if my presence would help or make things worse, but I had to try. I opened the door and found Mission curled up in Zaalbar's arms, her face pressed tightly against the snarled fur of the Wookiee.

Zaalbar looked up as I approached, frowning. He rumbled something gently to the Twi'lek, who lifted her head to face me.

"Hi Carth," she sniffed, rubbing at red-rimmed eyes that stood out in stark contrast to her pale blue complexion.

"Hey," I said softly as I took a step closer. "Uh, you okay?" It was a stupid question, and I winced. I was useless in situations like this, but I felt terrible for the girl. I knew all too well the pain she would be feeling. In the corner of my eye, I noticed the prone form of Jen slumped on one of the two bottom bunks in the room.

"N-not really. I still can't believe it. All my friends… everything… I don't even know how bad it is. It looked like the whole place was going up in flames!" She dropped her face into her hands, and the old grief tore at my insides. Taris would be rebuilt over time, perhaps, but it would keep the scars. Just like it had in the past.

"I don't know what to say," I said helplessly. I suddenly didn't know why I had come here. Words had never helped me, either. But I hated to see the kid go through what I had once.

"I don't really think there's anything you can say. I just have to find some way to deal with it, I guess." Her voice was muffled against Zaalbar's chest. The Wookiee was glaring at me; I wondered whether my words were just upsetting the Twi'lek more. She muffled another sob against Zaalbar. "I don't know how people can move on from something like this."

"You- you do," I responded hesitantly. "But it takes a long time. And part of it always stays with you."

"How would you know?" she snapped angrily, her mood swinging abruptly as she twisted to glare at me. Zaalbar growled, less impressed with my presence than ever. I sighed in the face of her anger. Why did I say that? I don't want to talk about the past. All it does is rip open scabbed-over wounds.

"My home world was destroyed by the Sith," I said flatly. Don't ask anymore. Please.

Mission's face had turned even paler, if that was possible. Her mouth shaped into a circle; her eyes widened as she stared at me in shocked surprise. "Oh! I-I'm sorry. I guess you do understand then, don't you?"

The sudden sympathy that grew on the Twi'lek's face humbled me. I don't need pity. But... that she would feel bad for me when it's her own home busy burning... I understood then that Mission had a very big heart.

I looked around for a distraction – the quarters were stark, plain, and empty other than the blankets on the beds – and my eyes caught once more on Jen's sleeping figure.

"She's been out like a drunk since we boarded the Ebon Hawk," Mission said, and her voice had lowered in tone. "Bastila said she just fainted from exhaustion, but Jen ain't waking up. It's been hours now!"

Zaalbar rumbled something in his language, and Mission turned her tear-streaked face to nod at him in agreement. "Neither do I, Big Z."

"Well, I guess if Bastila thinks she's okay-" I began.

"I think Bastila's hiding something. Jen's been weird ever since the Jedi joined us," Mission muttered.

I frowned as I stared at the girl. It was the same conclusion I'd had, before tossing it out as ridiculous. I didn't trust Bastila, but I trusted the wild, reckless Jen even less. "Bastila's a Jedi, Mission. This meek act of Jen that's driving us all crazy must be some mind game Jen's playing with Bastila."

Mission scowled at me and shook her head, headtails twitching in irritation. "No way, Carth. I know Jen. She hasn't been herself. And Bastila has something to do with it."

"You've only known her for about a week, Mission," I answered, in what I hoped was a reasonable tone.

"Sometimes that's all you need! Geez, Carth, where's your loyalty? Jen saved your life!"

Don't start an argument, I warned myself as I stared back at the irate teenager. "I can't – you can't ignore someone's faults just because they did you a good turn." I struggled to keep my tone neutral. "There is nothing worse than blind trust, Mission."

"Blin- how dare you, you overgrown nerf-herder!" she spat. Zaalbar growled loudly at me. "Jen's been nothing but good to us all – saved both your life and Big Z's! And now she's having some sort of problem – and it's got to do with that snooty, sneaky Jedi – and you want to just walk away? What sort of friend are you?"

I backed out of the door before my own anger boiled over. Zaalbar looked like he was ready to jump to his feet. Obviously Jen had captured both their trust, well and truly. "I see I'm upsetting you, Mission. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I- I'll talk to you later."

I exited through the door, and Mission yelled out another curse as my back. I could hear the Wookiee rumble something to her as I walked quickly away. Nice one, Onasi, I thought, wishing I'd left well enough alone. Let's go upset the girl who's just seen her homeworld burn. But I hadn't quite predicted the depths of Mission's loyalty to someone as unpredictable and downright crazy as Jen. The Wookiee had that life-debt thing, and I knew Mission respected Jen, but it surprised me she was so willing to think badly of a Jedi. What if it isn't an act? What if Bastila really has done something to Jen? No... it just didn't seem plausible. I didn't trust the Jedi and their motives, but that was going too far.

Bastila has been totally protective of Jen as well. Which further enforced the theory that it was all a conscious act; for some reason Jen wanted Bastila's loyalty. As well as Mission's and Zaalbar's. Mission could be setting herself up for a betrayal.

I scowled angrily at myself, and headed back to the cockpit, resolving to put all thoughts of Jen Sahara firmly from my mind.

xXx

The Ebon Hawk was not a standard Dynamic-class freighter, I was beginning to realize, having spent some time poring over both the diagnostics Teethree had produced and the specifications from the ship's computer. It had been highly modified, particularly for manoeuvrability and speed, and boasted a reinforced hull and more shielding than was custom for a ship this size. It had two turbolaser turrets that Mission and the Mandalorian had commandeered during our escape from Taris, as well as the capability for firing proton torpedoes from the pilot's seat.

We were nearing Dantooine, and everyone had had a good chance to sleep. Bastila had been quick to claim the pilot's quarters, and frankly I wasn't up to the argument. Technically, she was my commanding officer still, and after her capture on Taris I could understand if the young woman required a little space.

Which left me bunking in with the Wookiee and the Mandalorian, and the quarters already had a faint pungent smell of wet fur. I wasn't looking forward to cleaning out the sonic refresher, although, all things considered, our stay on the 'Hawk should be brief. Dantooine was an Outer Rim world not that far from Taris, and I wondered just what my orders would be when we finally touched down and I made contact with Republic command.

I'd spotted Jen once earlier, eating a bowl of synthesizer mush in the common room next to Bastila on one of the benches. The Jedi had been quietly murmuring something to her, but stopped when I'd entered, so like an idiot I'd turned and headed back to the cockpit. Mission had been conspicuous with her absence, and I could only imagine that she was huddled in what had become the women's quarters, dealing with her grief in her own way.

I'd had a brief scout around in the cargo bay, this time encountering both the Mandalorian and the Wookiee inspecting the first of several crates roped against the inner hull. There would be time for a full inspection upon landing, and I wondered idly what surprises Davik Kang had left in store for us.

But now I was back in the cockpit, and we were nearing endgame. I felt a slight loosening in my shoulders with the realization that safety was not far away.

The hatch opened and Bastila strode in, giving me a small smile before skirting around Teethree and seating herself in the co-pilot's chair. A minute ago, I'd broadcast the message that everyone was waiting for: brace for hyperspace exit in five minutes.

"I am looking forward to some rest," Bastila murmured, as she strapped herself into the safety harness. "I only wish I had been able to forewarn the Masters of our impending arrival."

I inclined my head briefly. "We were lucky, though. The damage could have been worse. Much as I don't like to credit the Mandalorian, he was an ace on those turrets."

I heard an audible sniff as I kept my attention firmly on the navigational readouts. "I am sure he has seen a lot of bloodshed," came the rejoinder.

I felt the corner of my mouth turn up at her prim tone. Neither of us were particularly keen on Ordo, and I was sure the feeling was returned. In fact, he didn't seem to care for anyone, other than exhibit a vague fascination with Jen which irked for some reason.

"What will you do when we land on Dantooine?" Bastila asked, interrupting my train of thought.

"Patch a message through to Admiral Dodonna and await my orders," I said, surprised at the question. I would have expected that to be a fairly obvious course of action.

"You would not be willing to stay with the Jedi mission?" Bastila questioned. "I am sure the Council will send another group of Jedi knights to Tatooine. We must continue our quest, Carth."

"The Endar Spire was a heavy price to pay for that, Bastila. And the secrecy's obviously gone, so you have to ask yourself: are these old ruins you are hunting really worth it?" Too many people had died onboard. People I'd known well, strangers I'd only just met. What could be so important about some ancient excavation or relic?

Bastila paused, and I turned to look at her. Her face was ice. "Darth Malak awaited us at a refuelling point, Carth. He may not know that our destination was Tatooine. And as far as the old ruins go, the answer is a resounding yes. It may be our only hope of defeating Malak's armies."

Admiral Dodonna had imparted the importance of the Jedi mission beforehand, but it was good to hear it confirmed from Bastila. It had been frustrating, on the 'Spire, to be treated as an inferior grunt by the Jedi onboard, and told little other than what was already known. "What's so special about these ruins then, Bastila? What sort of Force power do they have?"

"I did not mention anything about the Force," she snapped.

I sighed in exasperation. "It's pretty obvious, Bastila. What else could stop Malak?"

She sniffed, and it was a haughty sound. I found myself rolling my eyes as I turned back to the instrumentation panel. Bastila had a habit of retreating into a supercilious prissy shell when questioned, and it was at those times I found myself disliking her.

"Very well, then. Yes. But I cannot say more."

I tried to shrug away my irritation, and remembered Dodonna's directive. The lack of clear information I'd found out about this mission was galling, to say the least."So why did you Jedi need Jen then?"

Bastila made some sort of high-pitched noise in her throat; I jerked my head to catch her expression, but it was bland and unforthcoming. "She is a talented scholar, Carth. She happens to know a lot about the archaeological period of these ruins."

"More than Jedi Masters?" I said in disbelief. "Come on, I know some of those old farts spend all their time researching the past."

"You should show more respect for the Masters, Carth!" she hissed. "How dare you malign-"

"Okay, okay!" I raised my hands in defeat. "Sorry! I- Look, I don't like being left in the dark. Not too mention that Jen doesn't seem to fit in with your whole mission, no matter how much you harp on about her education."

But the sensor on the cockpit terminal drew my attention away – our time in hyperspace had come to an end. I leaned over to open the ship-wide communicator.

"Brace for hyperspace exit in twenty seconds," I broadcasted. I heard Bastila loose a pent-up breath, and I echoed her before guiding the ship out of hyperspace.

The minute-long deceleration was briefly dizzying, but as every second ticked by I felt myself relax an inch more, until the ship entered realspace fully.

Then the sensors went berserk. Flashing lights blinked into existence on the consoles, and the sharp red of laser fire spat on either side of the cockpit window. A proximity alarm in the ship began wailing.

"Stang!" I cursed, steering the 'Hawk abruptly to the left as I spotted a squadron of smaller snubfighters. Ahead, the green planet of Dantooine was prominently visible, and in between us and her was the ominous sight of a half dozen Sith destroyers.

"Get on the turrets!" I yelled through the comm as three fighters ahead abruptly changed their trajectory towards us. "We have Sith fighters!"

"No!" Bastila half screamed, half gasped.

I tilted the freighter up and around, knowing at once that our only chance was to flee. Even as the 'Hawk twisted away, another small squadron of light fighter craft became visible, and the console was showing far too many for any hope of our survival.

"The Force," Bastila muttered numbly. "I can feel the Masters using the Force."

"Bastila, enter a hyperspace route. Anything. Just get us out of here!"

I vaguely heard the sound of turret fire start up. Ordo got to the turrets.It might buy us some time, but we were sitting gizka out here, defenceless against this sort of manpower.

"No!" Bastila protested, and her voice was anguished. "I must help – my battle meditation can help the Order!"

"There is no way we can survive out here in a freighter!" I yelled. "A hyperspace jump is our only option!"

"They are bombing the Enclave, Carth! I cannot- I will not run!" she cried. "I do not know where else to turn! I must see the Masters!"

The Ebon Hawk jolted heavily, and a warning alarm joined the proximity one. A hit, dammit. "Are you trying to kill us all, Bastila?" I snarled, and leaned over to the co-piloting navigation console, pushing her aside and ignoring her indignant gasp. The Ebon Hawk had a short list of pre-programmed hyperspace coordinates, and the third one proclaimed the smallest travel time. I stabbed that one in, and turned my attention back to steering as the computer calculated the route from our current location.

"Entering hyperspace in ten seconds!" I broadcasted through the comm. Dantooine was behind us, and I turned the sub-light drives to maximum, heading out into black space. In front of us dropped a squadron of hostiles, all firing. The console blinked a navigational completion code.

"Hold on!" I yelled over the comm and entered hyperspace.

"No! Carth – we're going to hit them!" Bastila screamed as the ship jumped forward. The enemy ships ahead seemed to stretch as our craft surged ahead. I tensed my shoulders as one fighter came closer and closer, and I swore I could almost see the elongated helmet of the pilot.

I pulled back tightly on the steering column, and the ship lurched upwards as it jumped fully into hyperspace. Bastila's shrieks rang through my ears as the enemy craft shot underneath the Ebon Hawk.

A minute later, our view snapped into the serene blackness of hyperspace.

xXx

Chapter Text

Compulsion

- Bastila Shan -

Ice was curdling in my veins as I sat in stark horror. The Ebon Hawk was now flying meekly through hyperspace, and Carth was muttering over the consoles. All I could think of was Dantooine.

And Revan.

Who is still alive? What do I do? I'd only once felt as helpless as I did right now, and that was back on Taris. Collared and sedated.

Dantooine, under attack? I could barely believe what I had seen. Why? Why is this happening? My resolve and confidence were faltering; cracking. Master Vrook? Vandar? Nemo? I thought of all the Jedi I knew back in the Enclave, and a dark sickly grief surged through me.

Despair is one of many roads to the Dark Side, child. Nemo had said that to me, once. You must have faith in the Force.

I could not succumb; now, more than ever, I needed to be strong. Logically I knew that the Jedi masters would survive the attack on Dantooine, and possibly triumph. I felt numerous masters using the Force back there. If I could have helped... despite common sense telling me that Carth had been correct in his course of action, I could not stop the bitter anger at his quick jump into hyperspace. I feel like we betrayed the Enclave in their darkest hour.

It seemed Malak had split his fleet to attack both Dantooine and Taris jointly. But why? It is not a clever move. Dantooine is a civilian target, for all that it is a member of the Republic. Surely this will rally other Rim worlds to declare against the Sith. Malak may not have been the tactician Revan once was, but he certainly wasn’t a floundering idiot. He knows a direct assault on Dantooine would be unlikely to succeed, even by surprise. The Force is too strong there. Had the Dark Side twisted him so fully that he was content to destroy parts of his Fleet against a planet he would not be able to conquer?

Or was he after some other objective?

My blood ran cold. What if our mission really had been betrayed? What if he knows we have learnt about the Star Maps, and his target was the master Star Map? That made horrible sense. Without the Dantooine Star Map, there would be no markers to the other four worlds. We had, however, already downloaded the data from the ancient Rakatan relic, thanks to Master Nemo’s scouting team. Only a handful of Jedi knew about the Star Maps, and near all of them were masters. Could a Jedi have betrayed us? Turned to the Dark Side, without anyone knowing?

Was it possible for there to have been a spy in our midst?

What is done, is done. You can only make the best of what happens next. Funny how my father's words still came back to counsel me, even though I had last seen him at the tender age of seven. I pushed my emotions away and struggled for a calm the seemed impossible against the well of horror and anger that was surfacing. There is no emotion, there is peace. I must find a way forward.

I felt my lips pinching in resolution, and turned to face Carth. His expression was dark with concern.

“Where are we headed?” I asked, and my words sounded cold even to my own ears. I must hold on to this calm.

“Tatooine,” he replied, and it was in a questioning, almost wondering tone.

“Tatooine?” I spluttered. “Tatooine?”

Carth looked almost sheepish. “I picked the closest hyperspace route out of the pre-programmed list. They’re all smuggling destinations, so maybe it’s not too surprising. Tatooine is a short jump from Taris, and I daresay this ship was used as a smuggling vessel between the two.”

I leaned back, at a loss for words. The surprise was overwhelming, on top of the despair I was still struggling to tamp down. Is this not a large coincidence? Heading toward the original destination of the Endar Spire. And, thanks to the earlier research of the masters, I knew the rough location of the Star Map on that desert planet. How likely is it for this to occur by chance?

Master Vrook did not believe in coincidences, or luck. I knew well one of his favourite sayings. There are no coincidences. There is only the Force.

Perhaps the Force had led us here.

With that thought in mind, I hardened my resolve and turned back to Carth. “How long do you expect the hyperspace jump to last?”

Carth glanced at the central console. “Two days. Hopefully we can repair the Ebon Hawk when we land.”

I licked suddenly dry lips. “If we will be on Tatooine, then perhaps the mission is not totally over.” The Force had a will of its own. Perhaps… perhaps I was meant to carry on. Perhaps, in stealth and smaller numbers, it would be possible.

Ever since I had escaped from that Brejik’s slimy grasp, the desire for recuperation in safety had been growing. And now, with the shock of the Sith attack on Dantooine, so close after witnessing the destruction on Taris, I could feel an utter well of grief and despair deep within my core. But, I reminded myself, Taris and Dantooine are only two planets. So many more will suffer the same fate if we don’t stop Malak and his ever-growing armada. The Star Maps had to be the answer to defeating Malak, and it seemed like I was being given an opportunity to uncover the next part of the puzzle.

Carth had turned sharply to face me at my words, a frown darkening his face. “You want to complete a mission the Jedi Council had originally sent a dozen knights to accomplish?”

“Perhaps a covert approach would work,” I said absently, my thoughts racing. The Endar Spire had been a large taskforce in the case of Darth Revan returning, which had once seemed highly improbable. And only I and Galdea knew about her. Not even my old friend Kylah was informed, despite our long acquaintance. And now, with the danger of Revan’s re-emergence seeming like a distinct possibility, maybe the idea of striking out for the Star Map was as ludicrous as Carth’s tone seemed to be suggesting.

“A covert approach?” Carth retorted, and his voice was incredulous. “Isn’t that what the Endar Spire was meant to be?”

I didn’t answer; my thoughts were still whirling. But it would not take more than a few days, at most. The masters had derived the location of the Tatooine Star Map to be in one of the old caves in the Eastern Dune Sea, very close to the small settlement of Anchorhead. Force relics had been placed there in the past, and the presence of Revan and Malak had been sighted in Anchorhead shortly after their return from the Mandalorian Wars. Manaan’s Star Map, too, was known, thanks to the Republic Embassy who had so recently discovered an archaeological site near their secret kolto base. This is too much of an opportunity to cast away. Despite my fear… despite Revan… it seems like this must be my course of action.

The reminder that I was alone, with Darth Revan temporarily held at bay by the fracturing identity of a shy scholar, slammed the crawling fear back into my body. I had talked to her briefly some hours ago, and sensed no anger, no wildness, nothing but the meek shell of the scholar who had once existed. Yet that was merely a small reassurance - for when I thought upon the dark emotions that had flooded our bond back in Davik Kang’s stronghold, a very real horror gripped me.

I had the terrible feeling that if Revan embraced the Force again, the persona of Jen Sahara would vanish like a child’s ice cone under a desert sun.

I must be rational about this. How could one be rational about the Dark Lord of the Sith, Revan herself? I forcefully swallowed my fear, and reviewed the last day. The only times Revan had escaped the persona of Jen Sahara was when her life was threatened. Hence, I would have to make sure she did not become endangered. Perhaps I should persuade Revan to stay on the Ebon Hawk until I can get in contact with the Council?

At least she had not tried to use the Force. I could block her, I did so instinctively, but she no longer even seemed aware of the Force. Her earlier attempts on Taris had been clumsy, like someone fumbling for the light switch in the dark. Our mind-link gave me sufficient leverage to make sure she never found that switch. Her unbalanced emotional state is to my advantage. And ever since Jen has become her dominant personality, she has not even questioned her own ability. If I could keep her grounded on the Ebon Hawk, then we may very well find our objective, receive our new orders, and leave Tatooine to meet up with the Jedi wherever the closest masters may be.

I breathed in deeply, and turned to face Carth full on, projecting what I hoped was my most calm and commanding tone. I will be strong. The Force will be my ally, and I will be strong. “Carth. There will be a delay on Tatooine regardless, as we repair our communications and contact our superiors. There is a very real opportunity here, and it only takes one Jedi to find what the Council needs on Tatooine. I was your commander back on the Endar Spire. Will you follow me on Tatooine? Will you help with the war against Malak?”

Carth banged a fist down on the controls, hard and sudden. “How can you even ask that, Bastila? Of course I'll help! But I'd like to know a little more, first!” He was scowling. “Not to mention that I think we should wait until we've talked to Republic HQ and the Jedi Council before forging our own way forward!”

“Of course, Carth,” I replied calmly. I could see he was irate, but I would not let it affect me. My emotions were pushed back, firmly under control. “But while we are waiting for the Ebon Hawk to be repaired, we may as well investigate any leads.”

“Look, I-” he broke off, sighing. “I suppose that's fair enough. What is it you're after, anyway?" He still sounded annoyed, and I bit back an exasperated huff. I thought he was military. Used to taking orders, and not questioning his superiors.

“It is a Force relic, as you deduced earlier.” I said no more, and despite a black expression, he seemed willing to let the matter drop for now.

“We should talk to the others,” he muttered. “They need to know where we are headed, and we have very real logistical issues to sort out.”

My thoughts had been whirling through black fear and blind panic, despite my attempts to stay in control. I needed some time alone to strengthen my resolve. But it made sense to hear Carth out.

“What issues?”

“Funding,” he said shortly. “Look – especially if you want to do this quickly and in stealth, how do you expect to repair the ship? Are we going to need any equipment for your mission? And what about Ordo? What’s the blasted Mandalorian planning on doing?”

I blinked; all valid questions I had not yet thought of. I gave Carth a quick nod, he switched to auto-pilot, and we both stood to leave the cockpit.

xXx

The answer to one of our immediate problems was right there, glistening in the form of innocent pre-paid plasteel credit chits. Zaalbar had called me in to the cargo bay as soon as he’d discovered it.

Has the Force so fortuitously offered me a solution? The Wookiee was standing to the side, idly holding a durasteel bar he had used to pry the crate open. The rest of the cargo bay was littered with equipment and open crates, mostly weaponry and armour, but this was the goldmine. I did not want to think on the origin of it, but the Ebon Hawk had been a smuggling freighter, and its profits were likely on the back of the slave trade or worse. Frankly, it was lucky we had not found glitterstim onboard.

“How much is there?” I asked quietly. “Enough to repair the ship?”

“Half of that is mine,” came a gravelly voice from behind, and I stiffened in outrage, turning to face Canderous with a glare.

We were halfway to Tatooine, and the mood of the crew had been somber. Zaalbar and Mission had not reacted strongly to our change of destination, and Revan was deeply bewildered by everything, and more than a little scared. Of herself. It had taken only the smallest amount of Force persuasion to convince her that a sleeping tablet would lull her into a recuperative sleep that would result in her feeling refreshed and calmer.

Ever since I had crashed on Taris, I found myself acting less and less like a Jedi should.

The Mandalorian had been, in a word, frustrating. He was unwilling to divulge his plans thus far, other than claiming he had a half-share in the freighter which Carth and I both hotly objected to. We had been in the process of yet another argument when Zaalbar had interrupted us with this discovery from his inventory of the cargo bay.

“Half? And what, pray, is your argument for this?” I protested.

He was smirking, even as his grey eyes bored into mine. “I got you lot access to this ship. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be lost on Taris amongst the Sith’s plasma.”

“And if it was not for us, so would you!” I retorted, feeling my cheeks flush with anger. It was the same argument we had had regarding the ownership of the Ebon Hawk, and Canderous was not giving ground. But despite his strength, Canderous could not win, not against me, and Carth, and the Wookiee. Perhaps I need to find another solution to this. My eyes slid back to the crate. And perhaps he does have a right to some of it, at least.

“We need to repair the ship, Canderous,” I stated, before he could argue further. “We may need some basic supplies on Tatooine, as I have an objective to complete. And we do require the Ebon Hawk to leave Tatooine and meet up with the Order.”

The Mandalorian folded him arms, and his expression could only be called impassive. “Are you proposing something here, princess?”

I could feel my lips pursing as I looked upon a man I seriously disliked. But his skills were useful, and antagonizing or alienating him would hardly be beneficial. “Assist me in my endeavour. I am on a mission from the Jedi Council, and I would like you to accompany Carth and I into Anchorhead when we land. Whatever chits remain after our purchases can be yours to do with as you will.”

“As I said before, half of those are mine regardless. If you’re offering me a job, then you need to pay me on top of that.”

Mercenaries, I thought with disgust. “I hardly have access to any additional currency here, Canderous. But when we met up with the Jedi Order, I will make sure you are reimbursed for your time.”

He snorted. “The Order pay well, does it?”

“Yes,” I said icily. “Once we have restored communications, I will ensure they know of your assistance – both with leaving Taris, and whatever occurs on Tatooine.”

Canderous was silent for some time, and his gaze rested on both me and Zaalbar before landing again on the open crate resting in the middle of the cargo bay. “There’s not as much there as you’re probably thinking, princess. Enough to repair the ship, if Republic’s right about it just being the relay that’s down. Maybe some supplies on top of that. I don’t see any harm in getting you out of whatever trouble you’re liable to put yourself in, at least until I can find some real work. But there’s still the matter of the ship to sort out between us.”

“I need this ship to leave Tatooine,” I said again. “But it will no longer be required once I meet up with the Order. I do concede you have a stake in this ship. If you accompany us to our final destination, then perhaps we can discuss what happens to the ship at that stage.”

“We will,” he stated, and his gaze was hard. “But… you’ve caught my interest, princess, you and that Jen Sahara both. What, exactly, do you need on Tatooine?”

I let out a small sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. “The repairs need to be underway first, so Carth and I can contact our superiors. We will land in a small settlement called Anchorhead, and we may require equipment to travel in the desert if there is nothing suitable onboard. Transport, too, although my destination is not far from Anchorhead.”

My eyes closed even as I continued talking. “It should not be difficult nor long.” Darth Malak, presumably, did not know about my escape. But the Endar Spire had been compromised. If Darth Malak was aware of the Endar Spire’s destination, then he will assume other Jedi will travel to Tatooine.

How likely was it he knew? Even if he did not, the attack on Dantooine indicated that he suspected the hunt for the Star Maps was on. Would he believe that taking out the Master Star Map would be enough?

There were too many questions. And the mantle of leadership sat uncomfortably on my shoulders.

I heard Canderous grunt. “All sounds fairly easy, princess. Let Republic organize the ship’s repairs when we land, and you and I can scout around Anchorhead.”

xXx

I was feeling relaxed and at peace when a presence slowly roused in the far reaches of my mind. Revan. She is waking. I breathed in deeply, and stood from my place on the floor. The room I occupied was a small office of some description, perhaps created as the personal quarters of the ship's captain. It seemed a good place for some privacy.

My determination was clear as I stretched, and left the room. We were close, now, to Tatooine, and I had to ensure that Revan stayed safe. Safe, and onboard the Ebon Hawk.

I must ensure Revan listens to me. At any cost.

I found her in the port quarters that the Twi’lek claimed as the women’s sleeproom. The room itself was bare, and cramped with two sets of bunks filling most of the available space. The floor was littered with the bright cards of some sort of game I did not recognize; I wondered if Mission had brought these along on our hasty departure from Taris, or if she had found them in the cargo bay.

I frowned, and made a mental note to check back on the contents of the crates. The Twi’lek had been both a gang member and a street kid, and likely was not above acquiring some of those chits to line her own pockets.

“No, no, that’s a nerf-herder move. I mean, the chances of winning on a score like that- sheesh. I see why you lost so much back on Taris,” Mission was saying as I entered the room. She was sitting cross-legged on the small sliver of floor-space with her back to the door, and opposite her crouched Revan, frowning, as her bright green eyes stared at the cards on the grated durasteel floor.

“I don’t really understand this game,” Revan agreed, looking up as she spotted me. A slight smile appeared on her face.

“C’mon, the basics aren’t exactly rocket science- Oh. Bastila.” The Twi’lek’s voice dropped several degrees as she turned to see what had caught Revan’s interest. Mission’s face was pale and wan, and I was reminded that she, too, had just seen a planet dear to her attacked most viciously. She scowled darkly at me.

We had not started off on the right foot, her and I, and I regretted tripping her with the Force – but I also did not understand why she was disposed to think of me so poorly. The expression on her face told me that my presence was decidedly unwelcome.

“Excuse me,” I said in my most neutral tone. “I require Jen’s attention for a short while.”

“Can’t you see we’re busy?” Mission snapped. Revan glanced uncertainly between us.

“It will not take long, Mission, but I am afraid I must insist.”

At that, Revan pushed herself up to her feet, and so did the Twi’lek. “Jen,” she spluttered. “You don’t have to do what she says, y’know-”

“Actually, she does,” I cut in, and I could hear my voice freezing as my ire rose. She is being unreasonable and immature. This is why we should not have children onboard. “Jen is employed by the Jedi Order, Mission, and therefore answers to me. I have already said that it will not take long. Come, Jen.” I turned briskly and exited, trusting that my words would be enough for Revan to follow.

I strode through the freighter in silence with Revan’s footsteps behind me, feeling vaguely irritated, and wondering how best to repair my relationship with Mission. Perhaps it is not even important. I should not have to waste energy in smoothing the ruffled feathers of a petulant teenager. The only factor that made Mission Vao important was her relationship to Revan, and that was stronger on the Twi’lek’s side than the Human’s, I believed.

I waited until Revan had followed me into the pilot’s quarters I had claimed, and closed the hatch firmly behind her. I motioned her to sit on the bed, and followed suit.

“Jen,” I began. “I wanted to have a talk before we landed on Tatooine. We will be there for a few days only, before leaving to rendezvous with the Order again. During this time I will be engaged in a scouting trip with Canderous Ordo and Carth Onasi. You must stay onboard at all times, Jen. We require someone to guard the ship, and it is my job to ensure you are safe.” Dared I use the Force to strengthen my commands? It was becoming a habit to keep her contained this way, and I knew, on some level, that it was not right. Stripped of her affinity with the Force, and attached to me via our bond, Revan was a great deal more susceptible to any Force suggestions I made. It was so very tempting to use that opportunity.

But was it necessary? Was it risky? Would she become aware of it? The questions made my stomach lurch.

Revan was staring at me with her bright green eyes, nodding. Jen Sahara’s expressions made her look younger, closer in age to myself or the original scholar. I took a deep breath.

“How are you coping, Jen?”

“I-I am so confused,” she whispered, and her words mirrored her emotions through the bond. “I feel like I don’t know who I am.” There was no anger I could sense, only a whirling puzzlement that was almost choking in its intensity. She could not understand her actions or behaviour, and was scared. I had bought myself some time with the sleeping tablet, but the real risk would be on Tatooine, when I left her onboard.

The Wookiee had already assured me he would not leave her side, and it made me grateful for the life-debt he had sworn.

“You are Jen Sahara, a scholar from Deralia who has been employed by the Jedi Order,” I said, looking at the woman sitting next to me. Her expression was downcast, and her posture hunched in on itself. If it were not for our battles on Taris, I would have believed she was the same meek academic she had been on the Endar Spire. Whatever that crackpot doctor had done to her on Taris seemed to have been a real blessing in disguise.

Revan glanced up at me again, a slight frown on her face. “I don’t understand everything that has happened. This- it all feels like a dream, somehow. Or a nightmare.”

I placed my hand on her knee gently. “It is the same for all of us, I suspect. We have all been through a lot. But do not despair, Jen, for we will not be long on Tatooine.” I paused, wondering if I needed to reassure her further. “The Jedi have mind healers also. They can help much as your doctor did, back on Taris.”

Revan’s expression froze, and I felt a sharp blast of emotion through the bond, so quick that I could not decipher it. I reached out to the Force in panic, and Revan moaned, her hands clutching at the side of her head.

Jen Sahara. I am Jen Sahara. The confusion was back, threaded through with fear. But the swift feeling I’d sensed earlier… I could not be sure, but it felt like rage. Black, furious rage.

The fear was deep in my gut, too.

“You will be safe, Jen,” I said shakily, and felt the compulsion twist through my words. “Stay onboard the Ebon Hawk whilst I am outside.”

“Of course,” she whispered, rubbing at her temple. “Of course I will, Bastila. I’ll stay onboard while you’re outside.”

There was a sickly churning in my gut as she parroted my words. This is not the right way. I am letting my fear dictate my behaviour.

I forced a smile on my face. “Good, that’s settled,” I said, a little shakily. I stood, and she followed, her hands dropping to her side. “I suggest you prepare for hyperspace exit, Jen. It will not be far away. I shall leave now to accompany Carth in the cockpit.”

She took a few steps towards the door before hesitating, and looking back at me. Her expression was both apprehensive and questioning.

“Is there something else, Jen?” I asked with a calm I did not quite feel. There were questions she hadn’t thought to ask yet; prime among them was Dantooine. I had convinced Revan - some form of her for it certainly hadn’t been the Jen Sahara that stood in front of me now – that we were headed to Alderaan, not Dantooine. And I cannot forget the sedation, even if she has. Would it occur to her to question her sudden collapse when we had first boarded? She had not questioned it yet.

Revan bit her lip. “Sorry, it’s just that- we’re on Tatooine, now. Where we were going originally.” She frowned. “I am still unsure exactly what my purpose is to the Jedi, Bastila. Do you- do you need me for anything here?”

I tried to send her a gentle smile. “Not on Tatooine, no. As for your purpose, well, you have studied the era of the Massassi, and that is of interest to us. We are keen to increase your education, Jen. It is not uncommon for the Jedi Order to fund scholars. We look to the past for guidance.”

It was deflection, pure and simple. Jen Sahara’s studies of interest had been the extinction of the Massassi, as well as the formation of the Republic, neither of which had anything to do with the Star Maps. Master Galdea had kept Revan entertained with research onboard the Endar Spire; that was not possible while we were flying blind. Once our communications were repaired and access to the holonets restored, I would be able to divert her in the much same way.

“Okay,” Revan said softly, her gaze dropping from mine. “I’ll leave you be then.”

xXx

Arriving in Anchorhead had not been a problem, and Carth had landed the freighter with ease before exiting to meet up with the docking officials. He had not been away long before returning, shooting me a brief smile as we all clustered in the central common room.

“Alright, let’s head out,” Canderous said, hefting a pack from the cargo bay over a shoulder.

My eyes rested on the young Twi’lek, who alternated between glaring at me, frowning at Carth, and staring worriedly at Revan. Mission’s face was an open book, and I wondered idly if she was cross with Carth for some reason. But the concern toward Revan explained the reason for her anger at me. She was worried about Revan, and believed I was to blame.

If she knew the entirety of the truth, it would blow her childish mind apart, I thought irritably. Mission Vao, I realized, would not take nicely to staying onboard the ship. I looked over to Zaalbar, and understood that the Wookiee was key to them all staying behind.

“We shall not be long,” I told them, standing in the middle of the room. Zaalbar had hunched over the end of one of the benches, plainly too large for the furniture. Mission was sitting next to him, one leg tucked under her chin and the other dangling. Revan sat on her other side. “This is a smuggling destination, and it is not safe even in the town. I will lock the hatch behind us. Mission, Zaalbar, it is best if you stay behind with Jen.”

“Sure thing, Bastila.” Mission replied, and her voice was light and sweet. I did not trust it.

“I am serious, Mission.”

“Sheesh, I said okay!” Mission snapped. “What d’ya want me to do, swear my life on it?”

“A promise would be nice,” I said tightly.

“Fine! I promise I'll stay on the Ebon Hawk!” She crossed her arms and pouted, and I had to restrain an exasperated sigh. Canderous snorted as he headed towards the exit hatch. I looked over to Carth to see him frowning at Revan, his expression both puzzled and irritated, and I wondered again at the mixed reactions he had for her. His eyes rose to met mine, and he gave a nod of readiness.

I turned, and followed the Mandalorian out of the Ebon Hawk.

xXx

Chapter Text

Past Relations

- Zaalbar -

"I'm bored, Big Z. Ain't no way that stuck-up Jedi is telling me what to do." Mission had folded her arms, and her expression was contorted in the stubborn petulance of youth. Although I had expected this reaction from my young friend, I had hoped for more than a mere ten minutes peace. The others had only just departed.

“(Mission, we have been asked to stay on the Ebon Hawk),” I reminded her. I looked over to Jen, sitting on one of those soft brown benches that were not deep enough for my comfort. The human woman was engrossed in a datapad, reading an electronic journal from the Ebon Hawk’s meagre digital library. “(And you promised Bastila Shan that you would stay behind).”

“Only so she'd stop harping at me.” Mission looked disgruntled. “I had my lekku crossed.”

“(Mission!)” I growled. “(A promise is sacred)."

Jen looked up at that, startled, her eyes falling on me before dropping back to the datapad. She was not easy around me, despite our life-debt, and this behaviour was new along with her personality. I did not like it. I found myself wishing for the reckless Jen of old. This one smelled false, and I could not explain why I felt that way. I should be content that Jen was not willing to run blindly into danger anymore.

“Uh uh,” Mission disagreed. “Like that prissy ronto-face would’ve let me go. A promise ain’t worth nothing if it’s forced, Big Z.”

I stared at the Twi’lek cub and realized she was right. Sometimes, Mission came up with wisdom well beyond her years. While Bastila Shan may have had admirable reasons for wanting Mission to stay behind, my young friend would not see a promise made under duress as a worthy one to honour.

“’Sides, Zaalbar, this is Tatooine! Sheesh, I didn’t really think much about where we were goin’ at first, y’know? Everything’s been so crazy and bad but… but, I’m actually on Tatooine!”

I frowned. I did not know anything about this place, other than what I had heard onboard. A smuggling destination covered in deserts. I did not think I would particularly like it. “(You know of this planet?)”

Mission smiled at me. It was the first smile I had seen since we entered Davik Kang’s stronghold, and it warmed my heart. Her light brown eyes were crinkled with excitement. “Griff used to talk about setting up a trade route between Taris and Tatooine all the time.” Her grin widened, and then she sniggered. “He had this insane idea ‘bout importing live chuba from Tatooine and deep-frying it as a delicacy to the Upper City snobs.”

Mission rarely spoke of her elder brother, and it surprised me that she would now. I had never met him, as Griff Vao had abandoned her on Taris shortly before we met. Although she did not think of it as abandonment, I recalled. She blames his mate instead.

Regardless of whose fault it had been, the end result was the same: a young Twi’lek girl left alone on the streets of the Lower City, with only the dubious protection of a swoop gang who thought her talents were useful.

We had both been fortunate to meet each other.

And now, our lives were tied to Jen Sahara. When I thought of the destruction left behind on Taris, I understood how very lucky Mission and I had been, to meet up with Jen and escape when we did. I glanced over to the human again, and wished I knew a little more about her.

During our brief hyperspace journey, Jen had assured Mission that she was fine, and that Bastila was helping her. I understood that Jen had a commitment of some kind to the Jedi, but my worry was not alleviated. Something has happened to her, and she is acting like someone else. Mission was convinced it had to do with Bastila Shan and the Force, but I was not so certain. My people knew much of the Jedi and the honourable way they acted. I found it hard to believe that the young Jedi would be responsible for Jen’s affliction.

I lowered my voice to a faint rumble. “(Mission, I do not wish to leave Jen).”

I saw Mission’s face set with determination as she, also, turned to look at the human. “Jen,” she said, catching her attention. “Come for a wander into Anchorhead with us?”

Jen pulled her attention away from the datapad briefly. “Uh, no, thank you. I am happy reading.”

There was a dark scowl on my young friend’s face. “Come on, Jen! Have you ever been to Tatooine before? Let's go have a look around!”

“I- I told Bastila I'd stay here.” Jen’s voice was quavering.

“Where's your sense of adventure?” Mission retorted. “You’re the one who conned me into going to the swoop race!"

"(What?)" I growled. Jen conned Mission?

A bewildered expression passed through the human's face. “I- I did? I did. It- it all seems a little hazy.”

“What's Bastila doing to you?”

Jen’s mouth dropped open. “S-she is helping me!”

“Helping you turn into someone with the brains of a Gamorrean and the backbone of a gizka!” Mission snapped, her headtails twitching in around her neck. Mission’s temper was a flashpoint, bright and fiery before dying away. I could tell it was still rising.

“No,” Jen said, shaking her head. “No.”

“(We are worried about you, Jen Sahara),” I rumbled quietly. “(I am sure Bastila is helping. But you have not been well, and you are acting like someone else).”

Jen had dropped her head into her hands, and was mumbling quietly. I did not think Mission could hear the words, but a Wookiee had more sensitive hearing than most sentients. “I am Jen Sahara. This bond isn’t real. I am not hearing her say anything in my head-”

“(Jen?)” I barked as my fur began to stand on end at her strange words. Her head jerked up, and a dark maelstrom of emotions had clouded her piercing green eyes. She stared at me, brows lowering, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if she recognized me at all.

“It’ll be fun,” Mission wheedled. “C’mon. We won’t be long, and Bastila doesn’t even need to know!”

Jen’s gaze flicked to the Twi’lek, and I recognized the roguish expression as it crossed the human’s face. “Okay,” she agreed, and I almost shouted in relief. To think I would be glad to see that reckless look again!

“Wizard!” Mission stood, hopping with delight. “I’ll just go grab some supplies – I’ll be right back!” She darted out of the common room towards the cargo bay, and I frowned, wondering exactly what my mischievous young friend was after. I would have followed her, had I not caught the worried look cross over Jen’s face.

“(You cannot back out now),” I warned her. I almost desired for Mission to drag Jen into trouble. Anything to shake her out of this foreign identity encompassing her.

Jen nodded, and glanced away. Mission took longer than I expected - considering her enthusiasm - and I was close to leaving Jen again when the Twi’lek rushed back in. She had a smile on her face that I could only describe as wayward, a bag slung over one shoulder, and her arms full of vibroswords. She handed one to both of us, and Jen took hers hesitantly.

“(What did you do?)” I asked, frowning, still dwelling on the suspicious length of time she had taken.

Mission beamed. “Gave Teethree a couple of orders, that's all.”

“(Orders? What orders?)”

“Just in case the others try to buzz the Ebon Hawk on their wrist-comms, Teethree's gonna patch ‘em a message that we're all having naps.”

“(We will not be long, Mission),” I told her severely. A walk outside would do Jen Sahara good, but I did not discount Bastila Shan’s warning about this area. And the thought of disregarding a Jedi’s orders did not sit well with me.

Innocent wide eyes appraised me. “Gee, Big Z, you sound like you don't trust me!”

She flounced out of the Ebon Hawk, and I could only follow.

Bright desert sunlight hit my vision as I exited the ship, along with a wall of suffocating heat. I had expected the high temperature, but it was still a sharp contrast to the air-conditioned Ebon Hawk. It took a moment for my vision to adjust to the harsh light.

“Teethree, lock the hatch behind us, okay?” Mission spoke through a device strapped on her wrist, and I realized she must have also visited the cockpit to retrieve a communicator. She shot me an impish grin. “Wouldn’t be smart to leave the ship open to anyone, right?”

No. It would have been foolish in the extreme. And neither I nor Jen Sahara had thought twice about leaving the ship empty apart from an astromech droid with no orders, I realized with chagrin.

I looked around as I stood on the loading ramp; the Ebon Hawk was docked in a large, walled off area that was open to the elements. There were a few market stalls set up around the perimeter, perhaps half a dozen clustered near a large archway in the wall that likely led to the township. Several freighters were stationed on either side of the Ebon Hawk. Sentients dressed in the white and brown uniform of Czerka Corporation stood in the shade of the tall walls, and I found myself glaring. Czerka was a galactic spanning commercial entity with an underbelly as foul as the Exchange. I had no time for anyone affiliated with them.

“Here,” Mission said in a bright voice, having opened her pack to pull out two visors. I noticed one resting on top of her head. “I was having a look at what gear Canderous was taking before. I kinda figured he’d had a good idea of the place, y’know?” She was grinning at both of us.

The contents of the cargo bay had been a surprise, and I had not yet finished opening all the crates. It was mostly armour and weapons, all fairly standard, but it had been the quantity that had surprised me. I wondered if that crime lord had been planning a violent trip somewhere.

I struggled to fit the visor around my head, and eventually gave up, giving it back to Mission in disgust. My eyes had already adjusted, but it made me think about the requirements of our crew and what supplies we had onboard. If we ended up staying on the Ebon Hawk longer than planned, I might be able to modify a combat suit to fit Mission. I had often spent time with the Hidden Beks, patching up broken armour, and seemed to have a talent for it.

Both Mission and Jen were looking around the sandy docking bay; the former with a delighted expression on her face. This is her first time off-world, I realized. I was glad we were going for a short explore. Perhaps Mission needed this as much as Jen.

Mission’s face brightened as she spotted the archway that led out of the docking bay. With a grin toward us both, she jumped off the Ebon Hawk's loading ramp and began walking. I felt a trickle of sweat down my neck, and grumbled softly. As I followed Mission, I noticed that the few sentients walking amongst the docked ships all wore loose clothing over their entire body, topped with head-cloths for protection. It would not do for us to stay outside in the elements long. Not dressed as we are.

Mission was already at the spaceport exit, chatting to a local Paaerduag, those strange creatures with two heads. The larger head was saying something to Mission in a tongue I did not recognize, with one arm gesturing towards the entrance in the wall. I looked ahead, and could see a few buildings visible of what must be Anchorhead. From here, it did not look large.

“Okay, thanks!” Mission gave him a wave as we walked through the entranceway and into the unfamiliar town. We were on a sandy path lined with stalls that were made from crude tents – no more than thick sticks and pieces of cloth or hide. Above us draped large pieces of lightly-coloured tarpaulin, roped tight between the stalls on either side of us.

Although the heat was still intense, the shade provided by the cover did offer a respite. Not much further ahead were more permanent buildings made from some form of plaster or ferracrete. Overall, the entire place was much less technologically advanced than Taris and with far less people. If it had not been for the temperature, I would not have minded being here despite my earlier reservations.

“(What did the Paaerduag say?)” I asked.

“No idea,” Mission giggled, looking over to me. Her eyes were dancing with delight, and I was so glad to see my young friend happy. “I asked him where the cantina was. I think he understood me, but I guess he doesn’t speak Basic. Say,” and her voice turned speculative, “Jen, did you catch what he said?”

Jen had been walking behind us, and we both turned to look at her. Her face was pale, and her eyes wide. She raised an arm to point further down the path. “The cantina’s over there. First building on the left after the market stalls.”

“Great!” Mission turned back and started on her way again.

“(Are you alright, Jen?)” I asked. She gave me a shaky nod, but her expression said otherwise. I was not one for pushing, but perhaps I would have questioned her further had I not realized how fast Mission was walking. I huffed, and strode quickly after my young friend, with Jen’s stumbling steps following me.

We entered the cantina and I was immediately glad for the drop in temperature due to some form of air-conditioning. There was a faint haze of unpleasant cigarra smoke near the ceiling, and no windows at all. The walls had the odd holo-picture hung up, and the first one I saw was a Czerka advertisement for hunting equipment. Jaunty music played softly from suspended speakers, and in the centre of the room was a floating bar staffed by an Ithorian. I saw a look of despondency pass through my young ward’s face.

“(Mission?)” I questioned softly.

She smiled brightly; falsely. “I'm fine, Big Z. I just – ha! I just expected to see Sancha behind the bar, is all.”

“(I am sorry, Mission),” I said hopelessly. I was not good with words.

“Nah, I'm okay, really.” She sniffed. “Though if I ever get the chance, I'm gonna pay back those scummy Sith back for what they've done.”

“(Do not say that! You do not know who might hear),” I growled at her in warning.

Mission shrugged at me, and I almost had the feeling she didn't care. She turned back to survey the room, walking closer to the bartender who was serving a drink to an older, heavily equipped Twi’lek male. He wore combat armour, and had a vibro-staff strapped to his back, along with at least two visible blasters on his hip.

“Hi!” Mission greeted him, having already strode toward the bar and claimed an empty stool next to the Twi’lek. I kept a wary eye on him and followed cautiously. Whoever this Twi’lek was, he looked combat-ready.

There were very few other people in the cantina, and none of them seemed particularly interested in our arrival. Jen, standing next to me, bit her lip and walked over to Mission’s side.

“(Why, hello there),” the older Twi’lek replied in his native tongue. “(Can I help you?)”

“My name’s Mission. I’m new here, and was wondering if you could tell me a little about Anchorhead?”

The Twi’lek turned around to scan the room at that, his gaze only briefly touching on Jen before landing on me. I saw his eyes widen slightly in surprise, and then flick back to Mission. “(Welcome to Anchorhead, Mission. My name is Komad Fortuna, and I am a hunter from Fazza’s Lodge. What is it you wish to know?)”

He seemed friendly enough, the old hunter with the golden skin; and his headtails were looped around his neck in a relaxed manner. Although I did not understand the full nuances of the Ryl language, I had spent years around Mission Vao and Zaerdra Leno and could glean the basics of their mood from their posture. Komad was not at all wary of us, and seemed disposed to friendliness. I found myself relaxing.

“Um,” Mission hesitated. “Don’t suppose anyone plays pazaak here?” She looked around the mostly empty room, crinkling her nose. “Guess not. Any swoop racing on Tatooine?”

“(Only illegal races. You would have to travel to Mos Eisley for the organized runs).”

“(Mission),” I grumbled. “(We are not swoop racing).”

Komad Fortuna turned to me as I spoke, but he did not look like he understood, and faced Mission once more. “(There will not be much in Anchorhead to engage someone of your age, I suspect. This town survives on hunting and mining. It is also not the safest place these days.)”

“What d’ya mean?”

“(The natives attack anyone who encroaches on what they perceive to be their territory, which – these days – is getting closer and closer to Anchorhead. They have recently dug another foothold into the dunes only five klicks away from Anchorhead, and the Czerka-hired mercenaries have been unable to shift them. I think it may be a new clan declaring their territory).”

“Sounds like a rough place,” Mission commented, and I growled softly in agreement.

“(It can be),” Komad agreed. “(I am sure you have a good reason for being here, but I would not dally if I were you).”

“What are these natives?” The question came, surprisingly, from Jen, sitting hunched up on Mission’s other side. Komad leaned forward to answer her.

“(They are called Sand People, or Tusken Raiders. They are vicious, mindless monsters).”

“Oh,” Jen replied, and at Mission’s enquiring look, mumbled softly, “I studied a little on them, being the indigenous people of Tatooine. They have lived here for millennia. What is surprising about them is their technology has never really progressed. Water is sacred to them.”

Komad snorted. “(Water is sacred to everyone on a desert planet. It is true that the Sand People target moisture farms first, but here in Anchorhead they seem to be more prolific. They are trying to drive us out).”

“Huh,” Mission replied. “Guess we won’t be heading out into the desert then.”

“(I would not recommend it, no).” Komad replied. “(You would need to purchase a hunting license from Czerka to exit the main gates regardless, and there is nothing out in the desert other than predators and Sand People, and the odd sandcrawler that gets attacked three times a day).

“Hunting license?” Mission asked. “What, you mean we have to pay Czerka to leave?” Her voice rose in indignation, and I huffed in agreement. Mission was not fond of Czerka, although I could believe that may have been my influence over the years.

Komad chuckled. “(It is not as unfair as it sounds, my young friend. Czerka hire mercenaries to keep the nearby desert clear of predators and Sand People, and they run the hunting trade through Anchorhead. There is no effective government in this small town, and if it were not for Czerka this place would have disappeared years ago).”

“(Czerka Corporation is nothing but a greedy excuse for profit at any cost),” I rumbled in discontent. It pretended to be an affable commercial entity, exporting and importing goods from planet to planet, but I knew better. Czerka Corporation tried to get its evil fingers into every place they could, and strip the indigenous people of their culture, resources and rights.

“(I do not understand your furry friend, but allow me to elaborate),” Komad said, after nodding at me briefly. He seemed like a most unflappable person. “(Czerka run Anchorhead for profit, I do not deny that. And they have no respect or understanding for the honour of hunting. But they do allow us off-world goods, relative safety, and the ability to export the resources on Tatooine. Although I must admit, things have been turning for the worse, lately).” He sighed, and took a large drink from the glass the bartender had placed in front of him earlier.

“The Sand People?”

“(Amongst others. The hulak wraids – they are predators common to this area – are being slaughtered systematically and we cannot find the source. They are important to the ecosystem on Tatooine, so we always make sure to hunt them sustainably – yet I am finding numerous corpses very close to Anchorhead. The deaths are puzzling. Only krayt dragons hunt wraids, and this is not the work of a dragon).” Komad sighed. There was a discontented look on his face. “(And worse, one of the Czerka mining groups returned yesterday, having been soundly beaten by the Sand People. Two miners and a Czerka rep were captured).” Komad’s gaze travelled to the far corner of the cantina, then, where a Twi’lek woman sat hunched over a large drink. “(My partner grieves, for one of them was a man she used to care for dearly. The Sand People are known to kill those that they enslave if a ransom is not sent to them within days).”

“That’s- that’s awful,” Mission gasped, and Jen echoed her. “Why doesn’t Czerka send someone after them?”

“(They may yet, but they are not obliged to. I am afraid that all Czerka employees sign a waiver for cases like this. I would like to mount a rescue operation myself, for my dear Lena’s sake, but I cannot risk it by myself, and no one else is keen to take on the Sand People without remuneration).”

“(Horrible corrupt parasites),” I growled. “(Czerka Corporation cares for nothing but money).”

“Lena,” Mission muttered, and I turned to her in confusion. She was staring at the darkened corner of the room, where Komad Fortuna’s friend sat, head bowed. Mission stumbled backwards off the stool, barely catching herself against a nearby table. Her face had paled in shock. “Lena Torand?”

Mission’s voice had risen in volume enough that the few sentients in the place, including the disconsolate Twi’lek woman in the corner, all took note. I did not know the name Mission called out, but it was obvious by the way the woman was walking closer to us that it belonged to her.

The Twi’lek woman had pale golden skin, her face was heavily covered in cosmetics, and her headtails waxed and decorated in beads and leather braids. Her lips were a full red that was not natural, and her heavily lined eyes were red-rimmed with grief.

“Mission?” the Twi’lek whispered in Galactic Basic as she came within earshot. Komad Fortuna glanced between the two of them, as surprised as I was. “You- you made it to Tatooine, after all? I guess you’ve heard about-”

“Yeah, I made it here alright. Guess you thought you’d never see me again, huh?” Mission’s voice had changed, snarly like a bad-tempered cub’s, and I tensed in reaction. I did not know who this Lena was, but I had been enjoying seeing the enthusiasm back on my young friend’s face, and it was gone now.

“What- what do you mean? Griff always told me he would send for you- is that why you’re here? Did that good-for-nothing Hutt-spawn finally patch you some credits?” Lena folded her arms in irritation, but it did not look like it was directed at Mission. I straightened in surprise as I realized that this Lena Torand must be Griff Vao’s mate. Although it does not sound like this is still true. I had never understood that. On Kashyyyk, Wookiees would mate for life.

Mission gasped, and it was an angry sound. “Don't you dare start trashing my brother, you slimy cantina rat! You’re the chuba-face who told Griff I couldn’t tag along!”

Lena took a step back before the clouds of anger descended on her face. “It’s moments like these that I remember why I am better off without Griff Vao.” Komad Fortuna had stood, also, and was resting a supportive hand on Lena Torand’s arm. I wondered if she had transferred her affections to him, and felt a soft growl begin in my chest. “Mission, I offered to pay for your ticket. I didn’t want to leave you alone on Taris, but Griff persuaded me that you refused to come. I see now that the dishonest coward duped us both.”

“You liar!” Mission yelled. “Keep it up and I’ll smack you so hard that your headtails will pop off!”

“(Please, this is not the time for angry words),” Komad intervened, his voice calm and low. “(We are all upset here, but this does no one any good).”

Lena sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand and leaning against Komad. “I don’t wish to quarrel with you, Mission. Especially now. I’m sorry, I guess Griff must have told you we moved to Tatooine.”

“What?” Mission spat. “Griff only messaged me once from Corellia, years ago. He said you didn’t like his kid sister dragging him down.”

Lena stared at Mission in silence for several loaded seconds before closing her eyes. “Honestly, Komad, I don’t know why I’m even upset that he’s-” Her eyes snapped back open, and a frown creased the woman’s forehead. “So, wait, what are you doing in Anchorhead, then? Do you- do you even realize where he is?”

“Why would I know where he is? You’re the scow who’s kept me from him all these years!”

But Lena was looking back at Komad, and her expression was torn. I did not think that Mission’s anger affected her greatly in her current state. Komad had said she was grieving over the loss of one of the Czerka employees.

Oh no. My stomach turned as if I had consumed a week old wasaka-berry pudding.

“(Mission),” I said softly, but did not know how to say the words.

“I am sorry, Mission,” Komad Fortuna spoke haltingly in Galactic Basic. His arm had tightened around Lena, whose face was pressed against his chest. “Your brother was the Czerka employee taken by the Sand People yesterday.”

“What?” Mission snapped. “What?” Jen, who had remained silent through the exchange, gasped and took a step closer to her. “No. No, you can’t mean that!”

“Czerka won’t do anything,” Lena said, her voice muffled against Komad’s chest. “I begged them, but they claim it’s too dangerous. There’s not enough mercs in Anchorhead right now to mount a rescue mission. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“No!” Mission cried. “What, you’re just going to leave him there? To- to be killed by some native monsters? No!”

I placed my paw on her shoulder and could not stop a mournful howl. Mission’s face was pale and tight as despair filled her light brown eyes. After Taris, this just seemed too cruel.

“The Sand People stronghold is new and not very large, it is true,” Komad said, his voice low and serious. His bright blue eyes were focused sadly on Mission. “They often leave their bases relatively unguarded, and I would consider a rescue attempt myself if I had the help of half a dozen seasoned mercenaries. But I do not.”

“Big Z,” Mission hissed, whirling around to face me. “We have to go after Griff. He’s my brother!”

“(Of course, Mission. Family is important. But we should talk to the others-)”

“Komad, would you strike out with us?” Mission turned again, speaking over me, her light brown eyes intent on the older Twi’lek. “I mean, Big Z is ace at fighting, and you should see Jen in action. I can fire a blaster, too. We’d be able to get Griff back if we all worked together!”

Komad was solemn, and Lena pulled back to shoot Mission an incredulous stare. Komad sighed. “I am sorry, young one. While I admire your bravery, and I do not doubt the abilities of a Wookiee, I will not rush into danger with the odds stacked so heavily against me. I am afraid your brother is on his own.”

Mission looked wildly between Komad and Lena, both of whom stared at her sadly. She sniffed once, twice, and then burst into loud sobs and ran from the cantina.

I groaned in despair and hurried after her.

xXx

“(Mission),” I complained for the tenth time, as she handed me a gourd of water she had just purchased. “(Would you please answer me?)”

Mission had always had a big heart. She was always prepared to do anything for those she cared about. And there was no one, it seemed, she cared for more than the older brother who had abandoned her in the Lower City.

“You ready, Jen?” Mission called, ignoring me yet again. We were in an equipment store, and Mission had spent the last hour ensuring we were all clothed appropriately for desert travel. If it had not been for the dire news of her brother, I would have dragged her back to the Ebon Hawk and spent the rest of the day scolding her. For I knew where those credits had come from, and I did not believe either the Jedi or the Mandalorian would be particularly happy when they discovered what was missing from the cargo bay.

But worse than Mission taking credits from the Ebon Hawk was the idea of Mission traipsing into the desert. Her first step had been to flounce into the Czerka office and purchase a hunting license. I had not even understood what she was doing until it was done.

“I guess,” Jen said, winding a head cloth around her head awkwardly. “Um. We’re not leaving the town, are we?”

“(Mission. I will not let you go into the desert alone. The others will aid us. We must go back).”

“Guys. Griff is my brother.” Mission said, and her jaw was set. “I ain’t leaving him.”

“Family is important,” Jen whispered. “But- the others- they are strong warriors-”

“Stronger than you, Jen?” Mission snapped. Jen flinched, her expression twisting with a confused helplessness that seemed more at home on a starved cub than the woman I had sworn my life to. Meanwhile, Mission’s scowl simply deepened. “Look, there’s no harm in having a scout around Anchorhead, and checking we got the right gear, okay? That’s all I plan to do today. Then we can go back and get the others to help. But it that snooty Jedi tries stopping me-”

Mission glared ferociously at me before storming out of the shop. I loosed a huff of breath, and followed her reluctantly. Family was important. As important as honour. I had forsaken mine, and Mission was the only family I had left.

I would do my best to reunite her with her brother, but we had to even the odds somehow.

We were closer to the exit of Anchorhead now, and food stalls were parked on either side of the main path through the town. My stomach grumbled, and I realized I had not eaten for some time. The food synthesizer onboard the Ebon Hawk was satisfying but not particularly tasty. I found myself eyeing over one stall that was selling burnt meat on a stick. It looked like a barbecued tree-frog.

“Hotsa chuba,” Mission whispered, looking in the same direction. Tears filled her big brown eyes. “That’s what Griff wanted to import, y’know. He showed me pics on the HoloNet. He gets the dumbest ideas.” She sniffed, and looked away.

“(We will go after him, Mission),” I said softly.

She gave a small nod, and then started walking. Two steps later, and Mission halted suddenly in front of me. “Oh, bantha crap!” she hissed. “That’s Bastila up ahead!”

I followed her gaze, and saw three figures in the distance talking to a guard by a set of large automatic gates. They were dressed differently from earlier but there was no mistaking them. Bastila Shan was in discussions with the gate guard, gesturing authoritatively. Three large packbeasts were standing calmly next to Carth Onasi.

“Quick! Go in here!” Mission whispered, motioning us towards a sandstone building whose entrance was visible between two market stalls.

“(They look like they are just leaving Anchorhead),” I said, having followed her inside. Much like the cantina, this store also had air-conditioning, and it was a relief to have a break from the sweltering heat. We had stumbled into a droid store; broken robots and parts littered the small room, and a line of identical protocol droids were stacked up against the back wall. There were a variety of utility droids in various states of disrepair, and one was wheeling through the centre of the shop to whistle at us in welcome.

“What is this? A customer Yuka Laka doesn’t recognize?” I heard a voice speak in halting Galactic Basic, and looked up to see an old Ithorian shopkeeper at the end of the store. “Ahhh, an off-worlder perhaps?  Maybe you would like a utility droid to keep your starship repaired?”

“Not interested,” Mission replied, turning back to stare at the exit with a frown on her face.

“You must have a reason for entering Yuka Laka’s store,” the Ithorian continued. “Maybe you need a protocol droid? Yuka Laka has plenty of basic models that can translate in thousands of different dialects.”

“Sheesh, what would we need a translator for? Jen speaks every language we come across.” Mission rolled her eyes. Jen, who had also entered the store, looked highly uncomfortable.

“Oh,” the shopkeeper said dolefully. “Yuka Laka has a droid for every purpose, though. Yuka Laka wonders whether this Jen can speak Sand People dialects.”

“Look, I’m not interested, okay?” Mission snapped, and strode back toward the shop’s exit. I began to follow her, but she stopped, one step from the exit, and turned to face the Ithorian once more. A speculative look was dawning on her face. “Hang on, did you say Sand People dialects?”

“Yes,” the Ithorian confirmed, and rubbed his hands together. “This is not one of Yuka Laka’s normal droids, no, this is the special of the month! This is a one-of-a-kind protocol droid that is also combat ready. You have not seen any droid quite like that, Yuka Laka is sure of it!”

Mission shot me a look, frowning. “Big Z,” she whispered. “D’ya think we could bargain with the Sand People for Griff’s life? You heard what Komad said about ransoms.”

I stared at her silently while my mind was whirling. It was not a bad idea. “(Mission, we should talk to the others first. The Mandalorian is a tough warrior. Carth Onasi is a great shot. And Bastila is a Jedi. I will not let you do this without their aid.”

“Okay, okay, already! I said it before, Big Z, let’s just check out the desert so we know what we’re getting into. We can think about how we’re gonna get Griff later.” The despair had gone from her face by now, chased away by determination. Mission would not be left behind, I knew. “I’m gonna get this droid, Big Z.”

Reluctantly, I nodded. This shopkeeper has also said the droid is combat ready. That means we have another ally for any danger we meet. As Mission walked away to haggle with the shopkeeper, I looked around for Jen.

She was standing in a dim corner of the store.

Talking to a humanoid robot the colour of tarnished fire, whose red eyes glinted in the darkness.

xXx

Chapter Text

Acquiring: Master

- HK-47 -

Entertainment Routine Initiated:

Target Analysis: Type: Organic Meatbag
Species: Ithorian, Male
Name: Yuka Laka
Occupation: Droid Salesman - Current Owner

Death Scenario: Blaster Shot to Head
Survival Chance: 0 percent
Survival Time: 3.42855 seconds
Analysis: Too Quick

…/Some time later/…

Death Scenario: Drop On Hoth
Estimated Survival Chance: 0.00129 percent ###
Estimated Survival Time: 9558.18116 ± 3109.28884 seconds
Analysis: Amusing. Limited Viewing Potential
Optional Scenario: Drop Naked On Hoth

Death Scenario: Drop On Korriban With "Give Peace A Chance" Sign Attached
Estimated Survival Chance: 0.09023 percent
Estimated Survival Time: 727441.00259 ± 727441.00259 seconds
Analysis: Survival Time Too Dependant On Finder. Limited Viewing Potential

Death Scenario: Removal of Skin
Survival Chance: 0 percent Estimated
Survival Time: 532771.38841 ± 94635.40081 seconds
Analysis: Highly Amusing. Satisfyingly Slow
Optional Variables: Weak Acids, Sodium Chloride

Entertainment Routine Interrupted

Three Organic Meatbags Entering Targeting Area

Analysis: First Meatbag
Species: Twi'lek, Female
Facial Recognition Result: Negative
Body Language Analysis: Happy – Youthful – Alert – Impulsive – Non Aggressive
Probable Personality: Irritating Young Thief
Personality Compatibility: 23.78567 percent
Assigned Temporary Name: Gizka Spawn

Analysis: Second Meatbag
Species: Wookiee, Male
Facial Recognition Result: Negative
Body Language Analysis: Alert – Skilled Combatant – Introspective – Intelligent – Honest – Non Aggressive
Probable Personality: Quiet Warrior
Personality Compatibility: 18.37846 percent
Assigned Temporary Name: Mobile Carpet

Analysis: Third Meatbag Species: Human, Female
Facial Recognition Result: Error 1x0EEEFF. Attempted Access to Locked Memory Core Files
...Sequence Failed
Body Language Analysis: Shy – Confident – Alert – Impulsive – Aggressive – Non Aggressive – Confused – Wary – Angry - Meek
Probable Personality: Unable to Compute - Conflicting Data. Closer Observation Required
Personality Compatibility: Unable to Compute. Calculation Aborted

Hidden User Defined Sub-Routine Activated: Personality Compatibility Set To 100 percent

Interrupt:
…Quick Self Diagnostic Routine Activated
…Result: No Errors Detected
…Self Diagnostic Scheduled
Return to New Target Analysis

Assigned Temporary Name: Enigmatic Meatbag

Conclusion: Preferred Owner: Enigmatic Meatbag

Auditory Sensors Set to Scan Targets Conversations

Input – Yuka Laka to Gizka Spawn: “What is this? A customer Yuka Laka doesn’t recognize? Ahhh, an off-worlder perhaps? Maybe you would like a utility droid to keep your starship repaired?”

Input – Gizka Spawn to Yuka Laka: “Not interested.”

Input – Yuka Laka to Gizka Spawn: “You must have a reason for entering Yuka Laka’s store? Maybe you need a protocol droid? Yuka Laka has plenty of basic models that can translate in thousands of different dialects.”
Voice Stress Analysis: Pleading

Visual Tracking: Enigmatic Meatbag Moving Closer

Preferred Owner in Effective Communication Range

Conversation Routines Activated:
Topic: Purchasing Me
Auditory Sensors Set to Focus on Enigmatic Meatbag

Output: “Greeting: Hello to you, prospective purchaser. I am referred to as HK-47, a fully functional Systech Corporation droid skilled in both combat and protocol functions. Query: Would you be so kind as to purchase this model from Yuka Laka?”

Input – Enigmatic Meatbag: “Er, I-I don't think I need... have I seen you before?”

Output: “Answer: I do not have access to your memory, prospective purchaser. Extrapolation: I cannot access my own core memory files, so I cannot say whether I have seen you.”

Observation – Muffled Conversation Occurring Between Gizka Spawn and Mobile Carpet

Input – Enigmatic Meatbag: “Why don't you have access to your core memory?”

Output: “Explanation: I have been recently fitted with a restraining bolt. With it in place, access to much of my memory core is restricted.”

Conversation Analysis:
Current Topic: Inability to Access Memory Core
Conclusion: Conversation Moving Away From Required Topic
Attempting to Refresh Topic

Output: “Request: Please consider purchasing me, prospective buyer.”

Input – Enigmatic Meatbag: “Uh, I don't have any credits.”

Visual Tracking: Gizka Spawn and Mobile Carpet Moving Closer

Input – Gizka Spawn to Yuka Laka: “This is the droid I'm buying? Creepy looking thing.”

Input – Mobile Carpet to Enigmatic Meatbag (Shyriiwook): “(Jen? Are you okay?)”

Permanent Name Assigned: Jen to Enigmatic Meatbag

Input – Jen to Mobile Carpet: “I - yes. I just had the strangest feeling...”

Input – Gizka Spawn: “So, robot, what's your name?”

Light Impact Detected:
Source: Gizka Spawn
Combat Mode Initiated:
Interrupt:
…External Pacifism Routines Activated
…Source: Restraining Bolt
Return to Main
Exiting Combat Mode

Quick Response Analysis:
Appropriate Verbal Responses Would Reduce Chance of Purchase
Conclusion: Ignore Gizka Spawn

Input – Gizka Spawn: “What sort of robot are you? Can ya even speak?”

Input – Mobile Carpet (Shyriiwook): “(Odd. It responded to Jen.)”

Input – Gizka Spawn: “Sheesh, what sort of trash heap is this thing?”
Voice Stress Analysis: Annoyed

Input – Yuka Laka: “The unit has been a little uncooperative. They get that way when they go too long without a memory wipe.”

Input – Gizka Spawn: “It's just ignoring me!”
Voice Stress Analysis: Petulant

Input – Jen: “Why did you want me to buy you, instead of Mission?”

Permanent Name Assigned: Mission to Gizka Spawn

Output: “Explanation: You have seen combat, and are no farmer or diplomat. The Twi'lek is a child. Extrapolation: Even as a droid, I am allowed a preference of owner.”

Input – Mission to Yuka Laka: “I'm beginning to think you ripped me off.”

Input – Yuka Laka to Mission: “You talked me down to two thousand credits! It will behave and treat you as its master as soon as I have removed the restraining bolt!”
Voice Stress Analysis: Protesting

Input – Mission (muttered): “Two thousand credits is almost all I had left.”

Output: “Objection! I have no desire to be owned by a childish blue meatbag!”

Input – Mission: “Yeah, well, I don't like you either! As far as I'm concerned, Jen can take care of you!”

Input – Jen: “Uh, say what?”

Input – Mission to Jen: “As long as it can talk to the Sand People, I don't care who it obeys. Let's just buy this stupid thing and hit the desert.”

Input – Yuka Laka: “If that is what you want. HK-47, your new master is this human.”

Output: “That is most satisfactory.”

External Sensors Registering Removal of Restraining Bolt
Quick Self Diagnostic Routine Activated
Result: Previously Restricted Routines Now Accessible
Removal of Restraining Bolt Confirmed

Output: “Statement: I see you have purchased me, master. I find this a satisfactory arrangement.”

Output: “Query: Am I to accompany you now? Query: Would you like me to kill something for you?”

Input – Jen: “Kill something for me?”
Voice Stress Analysis: Worried

Output: “Answer: Indeed. I am most eager to engage in some unadulterated violence.”

Targeting: Yuka Laka.

Hidden User Defined Sub-Routine Activated:
Owner Command Required. Interrupt:
…Quick Self Diagnostic Routine Activated
…Result: No Errors Detected
…Thorough System Diagnostic Scheduled
Return to Main.

Output: “At your command, of course, master.”

xXx

Chapter Text

Fallen to the darkness

- Juhani -

The heat of the desert ruffled through my fur. It was sweltering in its intensity, even in the shade of the ridged cliffs that created a natural border between the Eastern Dune Sea and whatever lay on the other side.

I cared not. This place was like what I imagined my ancestral homeworld to be; a desolate, barren wasteland. A graveyard of nothingness. It was the perfect place to disappear in.

The predators here were fierce; large reptilian creatures that were no match for my lightsaber nor my power. Their deaths were a testament to my might. I would stand strong in the darkness. I would.

For I had failed the light, and there was no turning back.

The corpses of three wraids were laid bloody in front of me, jagged rents in their bellies spilling looped intestines over the yellow sand. The coppery tang of blood lay heavy in the hot air. I could leave these corpses behind, and scavengers would eventually pick the bones clean. I had already eaten.

I was closer to Anchorhead than I preferred, for sooner or later I knew people would be sent after me. There was legislation surrounding the kills of beasts, even on this remote planet. I felt a snarl form on my face. Twisted, greedy bureaucrats. I took delight in raiding their mining parties of food and water. But I had not killed more than wraids, not yet, no.

Apart from the slavers on Taris, but that was a vengeance long in the coming. Those who had treated me so abominably as a child met their end at the point of my lightsaber, and it was well deserved. Even had I not failed the Jedi Order so disastrously, I would have believed in the rightness of my actions on Taris.

My eyes closed and I wrenched my thoughts away from the Order. Away from my only friend left, who was a good, strong Jedi Knight. Away from my Master, whom I had betrayed so horrendously. Quatra… There was no going back, not now. Had anyone failed their Knight trials so disastrously? Perhaps I would go down in the Jedi history books as the pathetic Cathar who struck down her Master in rage because she was too weak to face her own flaws.

A sob caught in my throat. I must move forward. If the darkness is the only path laid before me, then I shall travel it. For who could kill their own Master other than someone too corrupt for the Light?

The anger and the grief mingled within me, even after so long. It had been more than a year since I had run from Dantooine, run from my Master’s corpse, and just kept running from planet to planet as the sickly self-hatred transformed into fury at the galaxy. This planet, at least, allowed me a reprieve. I could disappear from civilization and test my strength against the wildlife.

But the darkness calls. It did. I could feel it, taunting me, a presence that flashed in the Force and then vanished. I felt it the previous day, too. Weak enough to make me doubt my own senses, strong enough to make me cry for what might have been.

Fallen to the darkness. I cannot turn back. This was the next step along my journey, then. I would accept it, I had no other choice. Whatever this presence was, whoever it may be, they would taste my wrath for the interruption of my solitude.

And either I would fall to them and be at peace, or I would be one step more powerful.

My lightsaber cut a red beam in front of me. Once, I thought myself worthy of the blue I had found in a Dantooine cave. After my miserable failure, I had cast that aside in favour of synthetic red.

The Force rode with me, invigorating my muscles, enhancing speed, and aiding against the harsh elements of the desert world. I was drawing closer to the township, not far from the gates themselves, and within the territory those Czerka clowns thought of as safe. My senses stretched out over the dunes and picked up on the sentients nearby. There were few.

Just over the crest of the next sandy hill were three faint sparks and the electromagnetic oscillations of a droid. In this environment, it would surely have combat specifications. The pulse of power came from one of them.  I am certain of it. I would take care of the droid first, then work out which one taunted me with their Force abilities they were now hiding. That was my target, my path.

And I would show I was strong enough for the Dark Side. It was all I had left, and it would be enough.

It had to be.

My steps slowed and quietened as I drew closer, stealing up on the strangers from behind. They were moving away from me. I could hear a young voice; bright, hopeful, what I might have been once.

“See, it’s not so bad out here, Big Z. Komad wanted six mercs, well, I reckon you count for at least two. And Jen…”

“Statement: I have capabilities far beyond any fragile meatbag. Qualification: Once my shields are repaired, I estimate that my combat prowess will far exceed that of the Wookiee.”

I drew the Force in; deep, tight, and life-enhancing. With a howl, I launched after them, ‘saber held firm in one hand and ionizing energy crisping on the fingers of the other. Unnatural speed in my limbs closed the distance. As I cleared the hill, I saw them at last.

“Warning: Incoming hostile!” The droid was already firing despite my sneak attack, showcasing reflexes that far surpassed those of his companions. But it was no match for me; the bolts were cast aside effortlessly by my lightsaber. I snarled, unleashing my fury, and blue and white energy danced over the burnished red of the combat droid. My lightning had always been more effective against machinery than flesh, and with a hiss and a sizzle the droid deactivated.

I looked beyond the smoking scrap of metal.

A Wookiee, a Twi’lek and a Human. They all stared at me in dawning horror, and only the Wookiee had a weapon ready.

“I shall be your doom!” I howled. The Force blasted from my hand, a shock wave of power that tumbled them all off their feet.

There. There. A sharp flash of power so blinding it engulfed me in its fury, before vanishing once more. Like a mirage in the desert, taunting with its treasure before ruthlessly snatching it away. As the three of them scrambled to their feet, my eyes fixed on the human. She looked at me in terror, but it had come from her. It had come from her.

The Force built a wave of power inside, and I flung it at the other two with all my furious might. They froze, in stasis, that would hold for as long as I willed it. Incapacitated due to my strength.

"No!" the human cried in distress. Her green eyes were wide and uncertain under an askew headcloth, and she held a vibroblade limply at her side. That was a disappointment. Perhaps she wouldn’t be the challenge I yearned for. “Please, let them go!”

I laughed, a dark sound, and pointed my lightsaber at her. Her face paled, and it was right that she should be afraid. “Who are you?” she whispered, and stumbled backwards in fright.

“I am Juhani, and you have disturbed my peace!”

Peace… would that I could have some.

The Force thrummed through my veins, urged on by my emotions. Once, I used serenity and peace to strengthen my power. Now, I could only use rage.

“Please… we’ll leave you alone, just let them go!” Her voice was terrified and pleading, and I stepped closer. She raised the blade in a fumbling grip, and took another step backwards.

“Too late, human!” I snarled. It was too late for me, and too late for her. I strode forward, weapon raised high. The woman’s face had whitened, and she glanced frantically at her helpless companions, first the hairy one and then the blue.

Her pale, petrified expression shattered.

She snapped her head around to face me. Her grip on the vibroblade firmed, and her eyes narrowed in a resolve completely at odds with her earlier fright.

“Let. Them. Go!” she growled in a deep, dark voice. Her face had twisted in a building fury and her chest was heaving. But the blinding Force, the sheer power I had sensed, was still missing.

I took another step closer, watching the play of emotions battle on the human’s face. “Weak Jedi,” I mocked. “Where is your power? Without it, the Dark Side will cut you down!”

“I am not a Jedi,” the stranger said, eyes fixed on mine. Green eyes, spitting sparks at me. The colour of moss on a sodden tree.

The same colour as Quatra’s. Quatra…

I wailed in grief at the memory and charged, launching a swinging blow straight at the human’s torso. Her vibroblade came up to block, but I forced it down towards her body with unnatural strength. The red energy seared against her desert robes before she leaped backwards.

“You’re a Sith then?” the woman hissed, taking another cautious step back.

“I am with the darkness alone!” I howled, slashing at her legs. She darted to the side, a hair’s breadth from certain amputation.

“Who sent you?” she demanded, still edging away. “Are you after me? Or the Jedi brat?”

I bared my teeth, uninterested in her pointless questions. The Force reared up within my grasp again, begging to be unleashed, and I threw it at her. She tumbled backwards, like a flutter-gnat caught in a gale, and landed on her back with a grunt. I sprang forward with a stab towards her heart, but the human rolled to the side and my saber sank deep into the coarse, hot sand, turning it black. Black as my heart.

I spun around, ‘saber raised once more, and watched as the human clambered to her feet.

“If you want a challenge, then you've got one,” she told me, and her voice was cold. I could see the fiery hate building in her face. “But let the girl go. She is no threat.”

I glanced behind to the two sentients, still powerless within my grasp. A frozen expression of horror was painted on the young Twi’lek’s face. “You care for the girl? You are foolish.”

The human looked around, as if seeking aid or inspiration, but there was nothing bar the loneliness of sand and heat. Her eyes fixed back to mine, and then further down my body. She frowned.

“Juhani, was it? Looks like you’ve seen your fair share of action.” She was staring at my torso, and I glanced down. I had not paid attention to my state of clothing for a long time. Tattered rags covered in fresh and dried blood. I was missing a sleeve, but it worried me not. Vanity had never been a weakness of mine.

I smile an empty smile. “I hone my skills on the predators. And now, you. Time to die, human!” I ran at her again, and she held her ground until the last moment, before dodging to the side. I snarled, whirling to face her.

“Predators. You mean the wraids,” she panted. “You’re the one that’s killing them? Wow. That’s your big nod to the darkness?” Her voice had turned snide, twisted. She dares to mock me?

“I am more powerful than you could ever dream of being!” I roared. The heat of anger returned in a fierce wave, ruffling the fur on my neck. I ran at her again, ‘saber raised to strike. Her vibroblade blocked once, twice, but it slipped under the third blow which seared a cauterized stripe down her side. She screamed, jumping back, and her light clothes flapped in the stifling breeze, a burnt edge of cloth smouldering in the air.

It had been a glancing blow only, enough to burn, but not injure. Enough to anger, but not frighten. Not yet.

“You are no match for me,” I hissed. “I harnessed true power when I struck down my master! I revel in my darkness! I adore it!”

“Why are you trying to convince me?” she forced out through gritted teeth. “Unless you truly don't?”

How dare she question me? The uncertainty welled up, the grief, the fear; that this was the wrong way, that I had chosen poorly.

No! I had no other choice, not now, not after what I had done. I shall not be uncertain. I am steadfast!

I melded the Force together in a ball and slammed it into her abdomen. She was thrown backwards several metres, slamming into soft sand littered with the debris of sharp rocks. Her vibroblade fell from her weak grasp. The human grunted, coming up in a crouch, and I saw a droplet of blood make a slow path down her cheek. One hand pressed against her burned side as she glared venom at me.

I smiled coldly as she scrambled for her dropped weapon.

“Use the Force, so I can prove I am the master!” I cried. I wanted the challenge, not an easy slaughter. “I will kill you far too easily this way.”

My eyes lingered on a trail of sweat that trickled down her face, mingling with the rivulet of blood. I lazily threw my lightsaber at her; she blocked it, but stumbled backward with the effort. It snapped back to my hand.

“Are you too weak to use the Force in battle?” I taunted.

“I – am – trying – to!” she snarled through gritted teeth.

I advanced again, two steps, and drew deep on the Force. It propelled me into a swift jump and, snarling, I raised my weapon to strike her down on landing. The human dodged to the left, and my lightsaber skimmed against her shoulder just as she backed out of reach.

Time to stop playing with her. If she will not give me a challenge, I will kill her now.

The black power bubbled within me. I shaped it. Moulded it into something hideous, and threw it out to poison her body. She choked, stumbling back.

“No!” she shouted in denial. I felt it as the venomous Force struck deep inside her, dragging at her limbs, closing her throat and slowing her mind. The Force could be a very powerful ally, and the empty smile grew on my face again.

I could see her anger transform to hatred. “I will not go down like this!” she screamed. Like a thousand tiny needles flung out to pierce me, I felt the raw power pulse from her once more and paused in surprise. What I sensed before. She is strong. The human snarled, and before I had time to blink, she gathered my own tainted Force energy from within her system and hurled it back to me.

I gagged, and my muscles abruptly tightening in unnatural lethargy. What? She threw it back at me! My guard had been down and… I had not thought that possible. I lurched as the dark taint dragged me backwards. Her sheer power shone, and it was greater that mine.

And then it was gone again.

The human growled, a vicious sound, and ran toward me. She lunged, her attack frenzied and wild, and I found myself dodging for the first time. The next swipe I blocked, before gathering my wits and striking out at her. Even with the corrupted Force slowing me, she was no match. Not without the power that kept eluding her grasp.

I must finish her before it comes back.

“I will win this!” I yelled, and the Force flung out from my hand, pushing her away. She snarled inhumanely as a wall of energy buffeted against her, pushing her backwards, digging her feet deep into the sand. My fist clenched, and a weave of energy bent to my will, wrapping around her neck. Tightened, clenched, and she gasped in protest, her off-hand clutching at the invisible grip.

The stranger fell to her knees, growling and choking, her eyes emerald daggers of undiluted hate as she struggled against my superior power. I was skilled enough to hamper her breathing, but not to render her motionless.

And then a blast of pure energy had me sailing backward through the hot desert air as she threw off my constriction with ease. The power has returned, and it was blinding in its fury.

“You will bow to ME!” she shrieked in a voice that resonated with malevolent viciousness. I was back on my feet by then, and the human was rippling with energy. A sense of foreboding tiptoed eerily down my spine. I am in over my head.

But blank shock rocked through her green eyes, and the power vanished abruptly. She didn't mean to say that. She doesn't understand the darkness; she doesn't embrace it. I am the master here!

I growled, on the offensive again, and ran at her. She was snarling like a rabid kath hound as she blocked, her teeth bared as my ‘saber sparked against the her cortosis-strengthened blade. The anger has her, but I am the stronger.

“The Force had failed you!”

She dodged the next blow, and struck out at my legs, but it was too easy to dodge backward. Without the Force aiding her movement, every attack could be predicted, every block could be overwhelmed, every opening could be used.

Now it is time to put her out of her misery. Now it is time to prove that the Dark Side is enough for me.

“If you will not use the Force, I will end it here!” I drew in the Force deeply, and focused on her blade. With a mental yank, it slipped out of her grasp and went sailing behind me.

The fear, the disbelief, the anger, battled for dominance on her face. But it was no match for my darkness.

I flung the Force out once more, a solid push of energy that slammed her to the sand. She fell with a thud.

“I am your doom!” I yelled in triumph and closed in.

I lowered my lightsaber ready to stab her through the heart.

xXx

Chapter Text

A turning point

- Jen Sahara -

“Are you too weak to use the Force in battle?” the Cathar mocked me, her slanted yellow eyes glinting in triumph. She was tall, my height or slightly more, with an athletic frame that rippled with muscle under her short, downy fur. Torn clothing hung from her wiry frame, smattered in dark markings that could have been dried mud or dried blood. Her face was angular and exotic, with fine stripes of soft fuzz tracing along her cheekbones. Her only hair hung from a warrior’s tail at the crown of her head.

She was strong and fast and had the backing of the Force. And she was winning, while I was fighting a battle on more than one front.

Jen?

The opaque window of Jen Sahara that clouded my psyche was cracking; and as shards of her clattered away, a sense of stark reality shone in like raw sunlight after a sense-numbing storm.

I had not felt this alive since Taris.

Fear and rage intertwined in my mind, and a strong desire to see this feline stranger dead at my hands followed in its wake.

Jen? Anger leads to the Dark Side! What is going on? Bastila’s voice was actually lecturing me in my head. In my own sodding head. Demanding and pleading and intruding where she had no sodding right.

“I – am – trying – to!” I snarled back at the crazy Dark Jedi, ignoring Bastila for the meantime. My side burned and my cheek throbbed, but both were minor injuries. So far, I had been lucky, but luck alone would not vouchsafe my survival for much longer.

I could sense the Force around me, fuelling everything with life and energy and begging to be used, but my attempts to clutch at it were rebuffed by some unseen hand. I’d grasped for it on Taris, instinctively reaching out when required, but sometimes it had failed me. Sometimes it had bent to my will. How could I have thought the bond wasn't real? And the Force? What's been going on – who am I?

What do you mean? You are Jen Sahara!

I am Jen Sahara. The meek voice echoed her faintly, but it was not compelling enough to convince me. Not anymore.

Shut up! I snarled back, to myself and Bastila both.

Juhani laughed low in her throat; a purr almost. She took a few running steps, and I somehow knew a Force-propelled jump was coming. I waited until the last moment before lurching to the side. Her ‘saber glanced past my shoulder, and I felt the searing heat come perilously close to another injury.

Where are you? Bastila demanded. Please, talk to me! Are you still on the Ebon Hawk?

Juhani raised a hand, and intuition turned my stomach. I couldn’t sense it, but that was Dark Force building within her grasp. No way to dodge that, I thought wildly as I leapt to the side regardless.

It engulfed me, searing deep into my limbs, closing my throat.

“No!” I screamed, as I felt the dark oozing of something wrong, something evil, taint my body inside. Sick poison swelled in my throat, and I swallowed convulsively. My limbs felt drugged, slowed. Drugged? A flicker of recollection hit me. Bastila, you backstabbing schutta! You drugged me!

No! I had no choice! Please, I can explain!

I stumbled backwards, gagging as the corruption dug poisonous fingers deep into my body. My vision clouded, and as the Cathar advanced very real fear coiled deep within me. I can't win this, unless I use the Force! It was still there, surrounding me, taunting me with its inaccessibility. I growled, and grasped for it once more. My mental lunge landed against an invisible barrier, a shield, caging me away from the Force. What is that? That isn't normal!

But then, at once, it gave way under my pressure, and the sweet taste of power filled me in a rushing torrent.

Panic emanated from Bastila’s presence within my mind.

“I will not go down like this!” I snarled as the Force sang through my limbs, lifting the aching tiredness and invigorating me with life. Instinct mastered rational thought, and somehow I squeezed the tainted power running through my body, collecting it in a ball and flinging it straight back at the Cathar. Fury pummelled a glorious beat within me, strengthening the Force, and there was nothing that could withstand me, certainly not some pathetic animal-killing Cathar.

Get her, now!

I sprang forward, and as I did so the Force was cut from my grasp, like a knife through frostti cream, and it slithered beyond my reach once more. No!

My anger still held momentum through my limbs, and I sprang forward, attacking, vibrosword lunging at the Cathar’s torso. She dodged the first blow, her movements unnaturally slow as her own poison worked against her. I stabbed towards her heart but she parried, stronger now, and counter-attacked with a wild swing that had me leaping backwards yet again.

“I will win this!” Juhani shrieked, and her hand flung out, accompanied by a wall of invisible might that forced me backwards. I fought her Force attack with every muscle, every sinew, a growl of pure determination ripping from my throat; but it was useless without having access to the Force myself.

The Cathar’s hand raised and clenched in a fist. An invisible band tightened around my neck, clamping down hard, restricting breathing. I choked, spluttering, my free hand clutching at my throat in reflex. She calls this a Force grip? Pathetic! a dark voice sneered in my head, but I still sank to my knees under the weight of it. I will not go down to some cowering Force user who spends her days challenging desert beasts!

Jen? Where are you? Bastila was pleading now, a hysterical edge to her mental voice that grated even as I ignored it. Please, answer me!

The fury was blinding, overriding my fear, my despair, any form of rational thought. It was pure, unmitigated rage, and it blasted through me, shattering an invisible barrier with its sheer power. The Force hummed as it flooded through me once more, and I flung it out viciously towards the Cathar.

Pure unadulterated panic stormed through the mind-link from my unwanted bond-sister.

“You will bow to ME!” I snarled, and could feel nothing but this menacing, malevolent fury at all who opposed my will. She will bow, or she will die. The Cathar was back on her feet, then, and for the first time looked genuinely frightened. She should be afraid of me. All who defy me have reason to fear! I am the master! The power sailed unchecked through me, the power to rule planets, to bend minds, to make everything how it should be-

My mind stumbled, tripped over itself, twitched, as I at once comprehended the nature of my own deluded thoughts. The fury damped down, suffocated by confusion and not a small amount of fear. What am I thinking? That is… not right. It’s not what I want-

The panic from Bastila was so fierce I could taste it. And yet again, I felt something snap cleanly through my attachment with the Force. Why does that keep happening? The Force shouldn’t work that way!

Bu-but you don't – you cannot know how the Force works!

Bastila? Suspicion reared like a rancor within me. Do you have something to do with this block?

The bond was silent.

I saw a mask of superiority fall back down on Juhani's face. She growled, and lunged towards me again, a vicious swipe of the ‘saber that I blocked while snarling, muscles burning as blood-red sparked against the vibrosword. I held her at bay, but only for a moment. She had the Force on her side, and I did not.

“The Force has failed you!” the Cathar crowed triumphantly, staring at me from behind that blood-red beam. She would end me, and soon, if I did not find a way to reach my own power.

I need the Force. I need it now! We jumped apart, and I sprang forward, swiping at her legs in a move she dodged with ease.

Are you in danger? Please, let me come to you! There was a wavering hesitancy in the bond, as if Bastila was beginning to understand that I might actually be in mortal peril. Where are you, Jen?

I reached out to the Force again. Like I was opening my mind, stretching my senses, a psychic exercise that seemed inherently familiar... but, still, there was nothing there. I had the sense of an invisible net enclosing me on all sides, separating me from the salvation I required. There's something there, blocking me. I know it. And I know I've broken through it twice today. But how?

Sometimes, there'd been no barrier at all. The Force had simply been waiting for me, ready to bend to my will. Pazaak, in the Upper City, that was the first time. But it didn't work in Javyar's cantina. I'd slipped past the Sith guard to the turbolift. Enhanced my speed, more than once. Couldn't do a frelling thing but run away on the swoop track, though. So... why did it sometimes work for me, and sometimes not?

Like a lightning strike of clarity, I suddenly saw the connection. Every time the power had risen to my fingertips, Bastila had been absent from my head. Unconscious, or cut off by a neural disruptor. Unable to...

I lurched backwards from a hopeful swing of the rabid Cathar, my thoughts still racing.

Unable to shield me, due to incapacitation. The only time I've truly destroyed her shields is today, through brute strength. It is her. It is her!

"If you will not use the Force, I will end it here!" the Cathar yelled, and my vibrosword flew wildly out of my hand.

No. No! I stared at Juhani in a furious disbelief undercut with denial. It will not end here. It can't end here! Bastila! Give me the sodding Force before I die!

Juhani flung her hand out once more, and I was driven backwards, losing my balance and slamming onto the sand. The air gusted out of my lungs.

Jen! Please, I had to! For your own safety!

My own safety? The fury was black and thick and boiling tar, burning hot through my body. This deranged Cathar will kill me if you don't back off right now, and let me use the Force!

"I am your doom!" Juhani howled over me, and lunged to stab her lightsaber through my chest.

I reached out, enraged and panicked, and a sudden deluge of raw power flushed through my body. A snarl ripped from my lungs, and instinct moulded the Force into the tool I needed, I required, I deserved.

Juhani was frozen above me, her 'saber an inch from my heart.

I blinked, rolled away, and scrambled to my feet.

My vibrosword glinted at me from a distance, and my hand rose of its own volition. Instinctively I drew in on the Force, and the weapon came flying, snapping back to my hand.

I was completely unprepared for Juhani's lightsaber to come swinging back at me also. I dodged, yelping in surprise, and the weapon fell behind me. It deactivated as it landed with a soft thump and the fail-safe kicked in.

Juhani snarled and stumbled, breaking free of the stasis.

I have the Force now. She will die! A cold smile curved my lips as I eyed the angry Cathar over. I took a step backwards, and grabbed her ‘saber. It hissed slowly as I turned it on.

The Force sang through it, strong and rich and twisted.

Jedi do not kill!

I am no Jedi, Bastila!

I held the red lightsaber in my primary hand, whirling it experimentally. It felt like an extension of my limb, like the power of the Force was focused and augmented through the plasma beam. Like anything was possible.

I could feel the burn of pain against my side, but it was meaningless. The Force riding through me was all that mattered. And with the vibrosword in my off-hand, I felt at ease. In truth, the melee vibro felt slightly unwieldly; heavy and cumbersome in comparison to the ‘saber – but there was something about the form that held the familiarity of coming home. Two weapons. I fight with two weapons.

“You are strong,” The Cathar murmured, as her eerie golden gaze fixated on the ‘saber now within my grasp. I could see the disillusionment on her face. She knows this is her end. “Stronger than me, even in my darkness.”

A smile of triumph grew on my face as I advanced. The bitterness grew on the Cathar's face, but she lifted her head proudly, resolute, even at the end. It fit, with what I knew of her warrior race. They were no cowards. Even at the edge of defeat, they would fight back, and so she did – a hand lifted and a compressed shockwave rippled through the air.

I laughed as I deflected it. So easy, so weak, and the power of life vibrated an echo of my amusement. It danced through my veins, alive and electric. There was no rational thought, just some deep instinct that took control, warped the power, and radiated it outwards.

Bright hot sparks danced across my vision, and static streaks of charged bolts jumped from fingertips I hadn’t even realized I had raised.

Juhani screamed as the electricity embraced her lithe body. Cold raging victory curved my lips as I watched her dispassionately, as she writhed, grunting in pain. Sparks danced across her body as I stared in fascination.

This is not the way! Bastila was shrieking, a tiny voice of conscience in my head.

I blocked it out.

I heard a scream of fear from behind me. Mission! The Force fell from my grasp in shock as I whirled around, remembering my companions. They were no longer imprisoned, and Mission was on her knees, horror etched on her young face. The Wookiee held out his vibrosword in readiness, but did not budge from Mission’s side.

“Mission,” I mumbled through dry lips. What am I becoming? “Zaalbar?”

“End it!” Juhani demanded in a desolate voice, wresting back my attention. “End my torment!”

The reminder of my foe flared the rage back to prominence, and I spun around, resolve renewed, and strode back towards the Cathar. She was on the ground, faint smoke wafting from her fur. You don’t have to ask me twice! The dark superiority filled me again and I felt the sparks spring to life in my hand, ready to fly again towards my enemy, for I was in control here, I had the power of life or death-

Mission whimpered, and I faltered.

Can I kill someone in cold blood, in front of Mission? The Cathar stared at me through alien yellow eyes that were full of despair. I don't answer to anyone! The voice sneered in my head, and I took another step forward.

“Jen,” Mission whispered behind me, and I heard a soft grunt from the Wookiee. My resolve teetered on the edge once more.

Juhani was standing defenceless in front of me, brave pride holding her head high as she faced her end. Scorch marks and blood darkened the short downy fur on her arms. I paused again. Mission and Zaalbar are watching.

So what? They are nothing to me! I lifted Juhani's lightsaber towards her neck, felt the dark power of the Force hum in tandem with the scarlet 'saber, and saw acceptance on the Cathar's face. There was a sob behind me.

No!

“Kill me now, while you still have the power,” Juhani mumbled, her face close to mine. I stared into those tormented yellow eyes, and the maelstrom of emotions there reflected my own. Against my volition, my fingers hit the power switch on the lightsaber. It deactivated, hissing as it retracted.

Her eyes widened. “What is it you want?"

I could smell the tinny scent of blood on the air. I wasn’t sure if it was hers or mine. To know who I am. To not have voices in my head. To be able to use the Force, consistently. Now there's a thought. “I'll let you live, Cathar, if you teach me how to use the Force properly,” I said softly.

Juhani took a step back in surprise, shocked laughter escaping her lips. One hand clutched at the opposite arm, and she wavered unsteadily on her feet. “You cannot be serious! I have fallen! I am too weak for the Jedi, and too weak for the Dark Side!”

“Such insecurity,” I mocked, and saw the resultant anger flash in her slanted eyes.

“Leave me to my torment, or kill me now!”

Why do I not just kill her? I felt a shield slam down over my senses as the Force was cut off yet again. Bastila. The thought was weary rather than angry, this time. Like a harping shrew, Bastila’s very presence was inordinately exasperating.

Maybe now you will listen to me and tell me what is going on! she demanded. I cannot allow you to use the Force that way! I could feel anger there, from her, but there was also fear. Fear of me? Of course. For my rage had been real enough, and so had my dark use of the Force.

But the Cathar was hobbled, for now, and I was in not in any immediate danger. More than anything, I felt tired and annoyed. And deeply confused at everything.

At Jen Sahara. At acting like someone I was not, under a cloud of fogginess and a personality more foreign to me than Evil Bitch.

Oh, my rage was real enough. It was still there, simmering, deep within my gut.

My attention snapped back to the Cathar. Without the Force, bone-aching tiredness and burning pain from my side swung back to life.

“Ever had voices in your head, Juhani?” I asked the Cathar dryly. She blinked at me, and I could tell she didn't know what to make of me. I don't know what to make of me. I’m sure Bastila doesn’t either.

I couldn't trust Bastila, but she held power over me. Juhani was the first Force-user I'd come across, barring Bastila. Maybe she could help me. Maybe she can teach me how to break through Bastila’s shields.

“In return for sparing your life, you can train me in the ways of the Force.”

“Training? You, who bested me?” The pitch of her voice was high; disbelieving and incredulous. Her slanted tawny eyes widened as she stared at me.

“I don't know what I'm doing,” I told her flatly as I sheathed my vibrosword. I held onto her deactivated saber; I did not think she was a threat anymore, but I wasn't stupid, either. “Tuition seems a sensible course, and you've obviously had some Jedi training.”

Juhani looked away. "When I slew my Master, Quatra, I knew I could never go back," she mumbled. "I embraced the Dark Side and fled Dantooine. The only path left to me was this one, but at least it would give me the power to crush any who dared cross my path. Or so I thought."

My eyes narrowed. “You embraced the Dark Side, yet you ran away to hide on some remote desert planet?” I scoffed. “I don't think you're as far down the dark road as you believe, Juhani.”

“Why are you talking at me still?” she snarled, her voice rising in pitch. “I cannot help you – I will not help you! I am nothing!”

“Nothing?” I snapped in derision. “No, you only managed to incapacitate a Twi’lek, a Wookiee and an insane robot with a wave of your hand!” I turned back to look at HK-47; he was still out of action. I’d barely had time to think about his acquisition, and there he was, a heap of disabled metal. I frowned. “Speaking of which, you owe me for repair parts. That's going to be at least a hundred credits.” I folded my arms and stared back defiantly at the Cathar. Mission snorted behind me.

Juhani shook her head in apparent bafflement. “Who are you? Are you just going to hound me constantly until I agree to your incredible demands?”

“Sounds good to me.” I smirked. If I can get this Cathar to teach me the Force, then I'll-

WHAT? Bastila's resounding scream echoed through my head, and I winced, raising a hand to cradle my face. Instead of killing whomever you have encountered, you are using them as a teacher?

Talk about your permanent migraine. Every time I thought I sensed Bastila at her most demanding, panicked, fearful state; her emotions seemed to top a new level.

I had to get rid of this bond.

“How can you be so foolish as to ask this?” Juhani asked, and her gaze was as serious as her voice was soft. “I have fallen, and I can never go back. Yet you would trust me to teach you?”

“I don't trust you, Juhani,” I said flatly. Fallen, hah. She didn’t fall. She ran away. “Make one wrong move and I will kill you without a thought. However, keep your anger under control and we might just have a working relationship.”

No. No! I will teach you! Bastila pleaded in my head.

You have a lot to answer for, Bastila. I responded coldly.

I- yes. Perhaps I do. But I will not entrust your Force tutelage to some strange evil Force-user you have just met!

I laughed suddenly. “And now she wants to teach me,” I muttered to myself. “Damn you, Bastila Shan.” She was becoming as bad as Carth in keeping me off-balance. But Bastila was dangerous where he was not, and had a hold on me that I couldn’t deny.

But it was the doctor who screwed my mind on Taris, not Bastila. That was true. My thoughts raced, trying to pick through the haziness of the last few days. It was all a clouded dream.

“Who- what did you say?” Juhani whispered, blinking at me. “You know Bastila Shan?”

I stared at her warily. Should I let Bastila know who I had encountered? There didn’t seem to be any reason not to, other than pique. Pique felt rather tempting, though.

Bastila, heard of a Cathar called Juhani before?

Bastila was silent for a moment; a tense knot inside my head. That is who you met? Her mental voice was calmer, now, more controlled. She was a Padawan at the Dantooine Enclave. She disappeared more than a year ago, and her Master searched for her in vain.

I frowned at the Cathar staring back at me. She said she killed her master.

No, although I believe she came close. Please, bring her back to the ship and I shall meet you there. Juhani cannot have fallen far to the Dark Side. I can help her. Bastila sounded genuine. I wondered idly if it was possible to fake emotions within this strange bond of ours, as Bastila seemed truly concerned. I was not particularly disposed to think anything positive of her. And part of me couldn’t believe we were having an ongoing conversation in my frelling head. And at how natural it felt.

“Yes, I know her,” I replied to Juhani finally. “Annoying stuck-up Jedi. Won't stop yelling at me inside my own head.”

“Inside your head? What do you mean?”

“I- oh, I don't know,” I grumped. I need some time alone. Away from this angry Cathar, away from Bastila. Mission had walked cautiously to my side and laid a gentle hand on my arm. Away from anyone I care about. Caring was a weakness. Wasn't it?

Juhani looked at the others warily, and Mission was frowning in return. My cheek throbbed from earlier when I had slammed it into a rock, and the burn on my side was chafing against the clothes. I’d been lucky to escape without any real injury, I knew.

“Juhani, this is Mission and Zaalbar. Try not to kill them again.”

Juhani actually flinched at that, her golden gaze darting between them both. The fact that she was so uncertain now, devoid of the dark emotions that had gripped her earlier, strengthened my judgment of her. She wasn’t a true Dark-sider. Zaalbar growled, stepping up to flank Mission who was still standing close to me. The Wookiee was still holding his vibrosword, black eyes fixed on the Cathar who stood nervously before us all.

“Let’s go back to Anchorhead,” I said to everyone at large. “I want to go back to Yuka Laka’s. Turns out the Ithorian sold us a droid with bust shields. He’s going to remedy that.” HK-47 has lasted a stupidly short time, and I wondered if his shields had degraded in storage. Still, his reflexes had been good, and his warning would have been useful had I not been stumbling around in a stupor. My gaze wandered back to the Cathar. “We’ll go back to our freighter after the droid is fixed. Bastila is there, and wants to talk to you. You owe me some Force lessons too.” My grip tightened on the foreign lightsaber. “I’m holding onto your weapon, though.”

“Jen,” Mission said, and I turned, raising an eyebrow at the girl. She looked uncertain. “What about Griff? I mean, I know we’re not in any shape for it today, it’s just…” she trailed off. That’s right. Her selfish brother. There’d been that encounter in the Anchorhead cantina, when I’d cowered in the corner and barely make a single peep.

That can’t happen again. I was angry, oh was I angry, but there was genuine fear there, too. What if it does happen again? I’d be avoiding doctors from now on. Could I be certain that Bastila was uninvolved though?

She must have had something to do with Jen Sahara's origin - or she knew something, at the least. She owed me some damn answers. My eyes narrowed.

 “It’s just…” Mission said again, frowning. “What is Bastila tries to stop us going out again?”

“Oh, she won't.” I smiled coldly at the Twi’lek. “She can try, if she likes. In fact, I almost hope she does.”

xXx

Juhani stumbled in front of us as we made our way back to Anchorhead. I didn’t wish that crazy Cathar at my back, but the defiance had gone from her. She seemed calmer, resigned to whatever fate I was leading her to. Mission and Zaalbar threw me worried glances but said little as we trudged on the dunes.

I pondered over the strange sense of familiarity that struck me back in the droid shop. Back then, I still fully believed I was Jen. My last clear memory had been the exhilarating escape from the Taris swoop track, and the dash to safety afterwards. Everything that occurred after that was a hazy muddle of barely remembered events. Just like the Endar Spire. I won’t let this happen again. A surge of furious determination swelled throughout me.

“You're okay now, right Jen?” Mission asked, breaking through my angry thoughts.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” I lied.

“B-but we're heading back now to the others. To Bastila,” Mission stammered.

I looked sideways at the Twi’lek, and wondered what she was thinking. Did she blame Bastila for my behaviour? Did I? Zaalbar said nothing, other than an irritated huff as he walked on the other side of Mission.

The days after the swoop race were a muddle of barely remembered events. It was interesting that I could recall all of Jen’s history and early memories with relative clarity, but not since we had left Taris.

What are we doing on Tatooine? Weren’t we headed towards Alderaan? I frowned. There’d been some sort of attack from the Sith, though. No, that had been Taris. My eyes slid to Mission, and I recalled just how upset she had been, and likely still was.

But there’d been a second battle when we exited hyperspace. Mission had spoken about it, quietly, as she sat huddled in the port quarters we called our temporary home. The neutral planet of Dantooine had been under attack-

Dantooine. Bastila said that was Juhani’s home Enclave. A Jedi Enclave.

Bastila had persuaded me to travel to Alderaan, but we’d headed to a Jedi planet instead.

She lied. She lied, and she drugged me. Anger stirred again, fierce and fiery, in heat waves that prickled over my skin. Bastila had tried to herd me towards a trap.

Would she have done that? She claimed, on Taris, to only want to help me. Maybe she had good intentions? Then why hadn’t she just told me? Because I’d refused to follow her, back on Taris. No. No, I couldn’t trust anything that came out of the snot’s mouth. She’d proven her lack of trustworthiness. No matter what was wrong with my mind, no matter who I really was – Street Kid or Evil Bitch – I couldn’t trust her.

But, I could learn what I needed to use the Force from both Bastila and Juhani, and then I would disappear. Just enough to embrace it consistently. To ensure Bastila’s shields can be overpowered.

And then I would leave. Bastila would not betray me again.

The stone walls of Anchorhead rose up to meet us, and Juhani paused in front. Her head bowed, and one hand batted uselessly at her filthy and torn tunic. It flapped in the slight breeze, covered in blood, sweat and dirt.

“I bet you'll be glad for a shower,” I muttered as I walked closer. Her slanted gaze turned to fix on me in confusion.

“I do not understand you,” she said softly. “I tried to kill you, and you act as if it never happened. I have fallen to the Dark Side, and yet you leave yourself open to attack.”

“Sun and stars, Juhani, give over already,” I said wearily. “You're a strong warrior, and you don't give yourself enough credit. If you were truly evil, you would have lashed out at me again.”

“You are trusting; foolish almost. A naïve attitude I once shared.”

“We all have our demons to fight, Juhani.” I shrugged. “I don't need you to be another one of mine.”

“You struggle with the Dark Side also,” she whispered, and her alien eyes glistened as they stared at me. “I have sensed the anger and hate within you.”

“Guess that makes us two of a kind then, huh?”

She shook her head, a mournful expression on her face. “No. You bested me, in my darkness.”

“Stop it! You're stronger than this whining,” I snapped.

“Strength.... I suppose there is strength in resisting anger. The Dark Side of the Force is not what I thought.” Her lilting voice had dropped to a mere whisper, and she had bowed her head once more. She was a bit of an enigma, I thought, as I eyed her over in interest. She seemed to think little of herself at times, and yet I would also call her proud. A bit of a contradication; maybe we did have more in common than she would admit.

“You mentioned killing your master in rage earlier. I assume you fled immediately after. I don't think you fell to the Dark Side as much as used it as an excuse for your own failure,” I said flatly. Harsh words that resulted in the Cathar jerking her head up to meet mine, her eyes flashing with fury. I smirked as I saw her gaze drop to the deactivated lightsaber held loosely in my hand.

“You think to judge me? You-“ Juhani breathed in deeply as my grip tightened. Her expression became cold, remote. “What would you presume to know of the Dark Side, human?”

I shrugged. Like I can remember. “I don't presume to know anything, Cathar. It just strikes me that you were running, that's all.”

“I failed my Master! I failed them all. What else could I do?” Desperation chased the lingering rage from her slanted yellow eyes, and once more she stood in front of me, miserable and despondent.

"Learn from your mistakes?" I said sarcastically.

She blinked at me, surprised and silent. I sighed. “Look, if there’s one organization that preaches forgiveness and overcoming one’s flaws, it’s the sodding Jedi. Did you even think about going back?”

I felt the solid presence of Zaalbar at my back, and Mission next to him. The large automatic gates were not far behind Juhani, who stood there, wild and unkempt, staring at me intently.

At long last she let out a pent up breath. “Maybe you are correct. Maybe if I had the strength to take responsibility for my actions... the strength to resist my dark emotions. You have given me much to think upon, despite the callous tone of your words.”

I scowled. “Callous or not, you will still teach me.”

The Cathar inclined her head, but no emotion showed on her dirt-streaked face.

“I will repeat that I doubt I have much to teach you.” She turned around to stared back at the looming walls of Anchorhead, and lowered her voice to a dusky whisper. “I do not wish to walk through crowds of strangers, looking like this. I never thought I would fall victim to vanity.”

I laughed in surprise. She didn’t strike me as the sort who would care for the opinion of strangers, but she also looked a right mess. I doubted her clothing could be restored. The light amber fur that covered her body likely kept any sunburn away; had either Mission or I been clothed the same, we would no doubt be feeling the effects of exposure. Even the warrior’s tail on the top of the Cathar’s head was congealed together with some dark matter. She’d been a sight before we’d run into her. “You look like a tough Cathar warrior who's just seen and won a fight to the death.” I imagined the citizens of Anchorhead would give her a wide berth. “Hah, I don't look too hot myself.” My cheek was stiff with bruising and blood, and there was a blackened rent in the loose desert robes. “I doubt anyone will approach us. We’ll just challenge them if they try, and I’m sure they’ll back off.”

Mission snickered behind me, but Juhani looked surprised. “You make light of the situation. You baffle me.”

I grinned at the Cathar, and motioned her onwards. Zaalbar was walking next to me, gazing at me with serious eyes. His arms were full with the dismantled parts of HK.

“(Be careful, Jen. You may be a little too trusting of someone who almost succeeded in killing you.)”

“Don't worry, I'm not,” I told him flatly. I was ready to flick Juhani's lightsaber on at the first sign of betrayal. But somehow I doubted the Cathar would turn on me again. Despite her earlier bent towards gratuitous violence, she now struck me as an honourable sort. Either that or I was particularly terrible at reading people.

The large automatic gates were made of some sort of durasteel alloy, bolted into the stone walls on either side. There was a sliding hole on one side, behind which was a Czerka guard.

“Uh, guys?” Mission’s tentative voice had us stopping and turning. “Um, I can’t find the hunting license. Or my tech spikes. I think they fell from my belt when she pushed us over.” Mission’s uncertainty vanished as she scowled at Juhani, folding her arms.

“(Shall we turn back?)” Zaalbar rumbled, shifting the droid in his arms.

“I’d rather get to the droid shop before it closes,” I said, taking note of the low sun in the sky. The second one had already set. “Leave this to me.”

I struck out, walking decisively towards the gates, and knocking on them loudly. There was a grating noise as the small sliding window was opened, and the beady eyes of a Czerka-clad Rodian stared back at me.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

"Hunters,” I responded. “You know, the people who head out to the dunes and kill stuff?”

“I don't recognize you. I didn't let you out,” he said boldly.

“Guard here every waking hour, do you?” I snapped. “Let us in.”

“Where's your hunting license?” he asked suspiciously.

The Force, Bastila. Stop blocking me, or I swear I'll... I trailed my mind thought off. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I hadn’t quite thought that far ahead. But the barrier was gone when I reached out, and it was effortless to draw it in, fill my mind and my senses with life. I stared at the Rodian guard on the other side of the gate who had not been there this morning.

“I don’t need a hunting license,” I told him, my voice firm and commanding, the Force flickering all around me.

He scowled. “Everyone needs a hunting license, you idiot! You think Czerka lets just anybody walk the dunes?”

Well, that didn't frelling work. I breathed the Force in further, deep into my body and mind, ready to try once more.

But then suddenly my senses went into overdrive. The Force extended outwards under my fumbling grasp, and I became aware of the beings of life all around me in a wide sweeping radius. Mission, Zaalbar, and the Czerka guard were very faint, while Juhani was a bright, moody knot of confusion. Further beyond, I could sense a morass of life throughout all of Anchorhead, made from a thousand tiny specks of life and all indistinguishable from each other. Whoa. Here and there a brighter spot flared. My minds-eye touched on three such beings, dark and strong. And further, beyond them, there was a pulsing of white light that blazed brighter than anything else. Is that Bastila? What is this?

My confusion caused my hold on the Force to fumble and drop, and at once I was back to myself, blinking at the gate guard in confusion.

“Look, are you going to rack off, or do you want things to turn ugly?” the Czerka thug sneered, and my concentration snapped back to him.

I felt my brows lower in irritation. “I said, I don't need a hunting license.” I forced out, trying to push power behind every word with deliberate thought.

“Trying to be funny, are you?” the guard snapped angrily.

“This is ludicrous,” Juhani said, her voice in impatient as she shot me a wary look. “Perhaps I understand why you need a teacher.” She turned her attention to the hole in the Anchorhead gate. “We do not need a hunting license.” There. I could feel it, the Force, as it hummed weakly with the reverberation of her words, interleaving with the noise and giving her message an extra weight it would otherwise not have.

“I guess you don't, uh, need, um...” the guard trailed off, and then his face twisted in confusion. “Uh, hang on!”

A faint blush was evident beneath the dirty fuzz on the Cathar’s face. She glanced at me sheepishly. “I am afraid this sort of Force use was never my strong point, and I have been out of practice for some time.”

Mission guffawed in outright laughter, while I struggled to hide a snigger. The guard, however, was less than impressed.

“Go away!” he snarled, and our attention was drawn to a grating noise from the top of the gates. Turrets were swinging to aim at us, and just like that, my amusement vanished. “No licence, no entry!”

“I think I know how this Force thing works,” Mission said, an impish note in her voice as she smirked at me. She stepped forward to address the guard. “Don’t worry about them, they’ve gone a bit la-la from too much time out in the desert.” She tapped the side of her head as she gave the guard a sympathetic smile. “I’ve gotta get them to a doc. Look, open the door and I’ll slip you two hundred credits? I need to get these two eggheads out of the sun.”

Mission grabbed a couple of prepaid chits from her belt - and where in the Outer Rim had she found those? – and slid them through the opening of the gate. A moment later, and the large doors creaked open.

We walked inside cautiously, as three Czerka guards stared at us from behind raised blasters. Nevertheless, I had seen Juhani’s attempt, and felt confident of reproducing it.

“(Jen,)” Zaalbar growled, a warning in his voice as I stepped over to the guard at the gate.  “(We are inside. This is time to leave well enough alone.)”

He was right, I realized, as a blaster aimed straight at my head. But I could end that thug’s life in an instant. It was a bit galling to admit, but the purpose for trying a mind trick once more would only be to satisfy my own pride. Reckless idiot, a voice said affectionately in my head. Overconfidence, a different voice, this one old and sneering with disapproval. You were always too damnably overconfident.

I shivered, the voices fled, and I turned to nod at Zaalbar.

“Yuka Laka’s,” I said through numb lips. “Lead the way, Zaalbar.” The Wookiee nodded, concern evident on his face, but he turned to stride through the crowd, his arms still full of burnished red metal.

Juhani was one step ahead, shooting wary glances at the crowd. Long shadows were drawn on the dusty path that led under the shaded tarpaulins, and the first merchants were beginning to pack up their stalls. Some stared at us, in particular Juhani and myself, and then deliberately avoided our gaze.

Mission was walking next to me. “So,” she said softly, her light brown eyes looking at me sideways. “That was… that was really something, back in the dunes. You can use the Force, huh?”

Both the posture of the Wookiee and the Cathar tightened in front of me. They were listening in, their hearing eclipsing that of a human’s, I suspected. “Yeah,” I said, sighing.

“Does that mean you’re going to be a Jedi?”

The Cathar slowed until she was on my other side, looking over to Mission in askance. “She is strong in the Force. That does not make a Jedi, however.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” I muttered. “If it means being as uptight at Bastila, I think I’ll pass.” Mission snickered at that, whilst the Cathar shot me a reproving look. Disapproval from one who had just tried to murder me was somewhat surprising, and I scowled in response.

“What’s… what’s been going on, Jen?” Mission asked, and her voice was quiet. “It’s Bastila, isn’t it? She’s been making you act all funny?”

I heard a gasp of surprise or perhaps indignation from the Cathar, but it barely registered. “I don’t trust her…” I whispered, and my gaze travelled away from Mission to stare unfocused in the distance. “But, I don’t know. I’ve got black spots in my memory, Mission. Things that don’t make sense. Just before we left Taris, I went to see a doctor and that made it worse. Bastila’s lied to me, and I don’t trust her… but I’m not sure what she has to do with the last week or so.”

I stopped in the street, answering Mission, but my thoughts were far away, disjointed and confused and deeply worried. I couldn’t get a grasp on myself. In the quiet times, I knew I was Street Kid and couldn’t be anyone else. But then the anger caught hold, and with it the Evil Bitch’s power… and then Jen Sahara would eclipse everything else with her meekness and fright. I breathed in deeply, and felt myself shuddering.

Mission was frowning at me. “Bastila was sure happy that you didn’t have a backbone, y’know.”

That doesn’t mean she’s responsible. But I’d already decided she was to blame for Jen Sahara, weeks ago. To blame? Or maybe she just knows more than I do? There was a strong part of me, and I wasn’t sure if it was Jen or Street Kid, that desperately wanted to believe in Bastila.

But there was too much stacking up against her.

A light breeze caught, lifting my tattered robe, and bringing with it a dusty, dry smell. An orange-red sun hung low in the sky, slowly sinking below the Anchorhead buildings. The air had a shimmer of heat to it, although it was less intense than earlier in the day. Locals meandering down the paths were clothed in light, loose tunics appropriate for this environment, and I could smell the burnt meat of a food stall nearby.

I’ve been here before. It was a deep, unshakeable certainty, a feeling of strong reminiscence, even as no memory resurfaced. It should have confused me further, frightened me. Or stoked the anger that buffeted uselessly against the cage of uncertainty around my very identity. But I was tired, and the emotions were not helping.

“Jen,” Mission said again, and I glanced sideways at her. Juhani was staring at me, her eyes wide and perplexed. She’d probably heard all of our conversation, and was wondering just whom she’d agreed to train. I felt the side of my mouth quirk. Wonder if she wishes she was still out there, slaughtering the wraids. Probably prefers her darkness to my sort of crazy.

“What is it, Mission?” But as I looked at the young Twi’lek, I knew who she was thinking about. I gave her a reassuring smile.

“Let’s go, Mission. We’ll head out for your brother tomorrow. I promise.”

The vow slipped out before I could retract it.

xXx

Chapter Text

Half-truths and part lies

- Bastila Shan -

I could not stop my pacing, despite the burn of new blisters and the dull ache of weariness in the soles of my feet.

Where is she?

Had the volatile woman reverted fully to Darth Revan? My insides clenched in nauseating terror at the thought. While I did not truly believe that to be the case - not with the contrary mix of emotions flaring from her - I did know one fact for certain: the persona of Jen Sahara had been swept away with the blowing Tatooine sands.

What do I do? What can I do, now?

Persuasion. Compulsion. Sedation. Anything to keep her compliant, until you find the masters, a little voice whispered. Anything to keep yourself - and everyone who travels with you - safe.

It was tempting. All the more tempting, for I had already trodden down that path, had I not? I simply needed to decide on the best mechanism to subdue Revan. Leash her, somehow, find the safest way to contain her...

The sick feeling in my belly grew.

Through the bond, our thrice-cursed bond, there was a brief surge of emotion. Something light, something that felt an awful lot like empathy. Compassion, undercutting the black rage that had returned to the core of her soul.

Perhaps part of Jen Sahara is still there? I found my feet stilling, as my eyes closed and my mind centred on that damnable woman. If the overlay of the dead scholar still held, even in part, then it would be within my capabilities to, to...

The masters would not blame me. Master Vrook- perhaps he did not agree with the Council's actions, but he always disliked Revan, he would understand she needs to be contained-

A flash of humour on the Force. I jumped like a scalded felinx, frightened that Revan had been stalking my own thoughts in turn. But no, no... she did not seem aware of me in this precise moment; her diversion was entirely due to her companions or environment.

She is not Jen Sahara. Jen Sahara would not find anything remotely amusing after almost losing her life. I swallowed past a lump in my throat. Jen Sahara would not bond so easily with a Tarisian orphan, a Fleet officer, a Wookiee, a blood-thirsty Mandalorian...