Kono wasn't accustomed to seeing her here. Usually, the bare white house was completely empty, nothing but four walls and a ceiling lit by sourceless light. But this time Bastila stood before him in the center of the room. She looked at him oddly, as if to say she thought the same as he; she didn't look like she had expected to see him either.
He knew he couldn't be seeing her, she was too perfect, too utterly still and statue-like. Not even the power of gravity seemed to have any effect on her. Her long hair - undone from its usual tight updo - floated out behind her as if in a soft breeze, but the air was still as a tomb.
Kono couldn't see her eyes. Whenever he looked at her face, he only saw a reflection of himself.
Bastila raised her hands out from her sides slowly, her limbs stiff. "I know what this means now," she said in a serene voice that was too clear and even to have possibly come from a human throat. "The house is you. But you always knew that. And yet, you do not."
"Why are you here?" Kono asked, almost surprised to hear himself talk, like he was only a passive observer of this surreal scene.
"I should be asking you that," Bastila responded. "But you know the reason. We share a bond, you and I. We are linked whether we like it or not, and so this house is also me." A ghost of a smile touched Bastila's face. "You already know what the fire means, but you also do not."
"You weren't prepared for me to realize what the Council had done to me," Kono answered. "That was your fire. It got you captured, that's where you are now."
Bastila shook her head. "There is so much I could not tell you, so much I would change were it in my power to do so. The fire was, and still is, meant for you to discover."
For a life-shattering instant, her gray eyes met his, and Kono gasped as a nightmarishly familiar face stared back at him in Bastila's place.
Caroleen shimmered like a mirage before his eyes, hauntingly beautiful, and suddenly dissolved into a thousand droplets of searing flame that cascaded downward, splashing in all directions faster than Kono's eyes could follow. The entire house burst into flames as the fire spread its hungry fingers up the walls, devouring everything in its path.
Kono threw up his hands to protect his face as the inferno engulfed him.
His eyes opened, he felt sweat and saliva from his open mouth staining the pillow beneath his head, blood was pounding through an arm that dangled from the edge of the narrow cot. Pulling himself upright on the cot, a look at his chronometer told Kono it was hovering around 0530.
He shook his head at the strange dream, so similar yet so different from the ones he'd been having since Taris. The quiet, empty house suddenly bursting into flames was no new occurrence, and he knew Bastila had been seeing them as well, but this was the first time he'd been visited by someone in the dream.
A bad taste boiled up in his throat at the vivid recollection of Bastila's words.
"There is so much I could not tell you... The fire is meant for you to discover."
It was more than a dream. He knew that beyond any doubt. It was... communication. It could even be that Bastila was learning to tap into the bond the same way he had during training. She could be doing so for any number of reasons, not the least of which would be attempts to distance herself from the gruesome torture that was most certainly happening to her even as Kono considered it.
The other astonishing thing was seeing Caroleen again. Those teal eyes that danced when she smiled her infectious smile had taken his breath away, so sharp was the pain. It had to be part of the message, but what any of it could mean Kono had no idea. Still, the memories stirred by the sudden vision were discomforting and unwelcome.
Breathing heavily, he dashed through the brush, wet branches and slithery vines slapping against his face as he ran at a breakneck pace. The damp jungle air seemed trying to suffocate him, every outstretched root and overturned log on a mission to trip him, ensnare him. His heart was pounding with adrenaline, propelling him to ever greater effort.
Still drowsy, but eager to take his mind off his depressing thoughts, Kono got from his bunk and made for the garage. The ship was quiet around him, only the hum of the engines disturbing the silence. It was early, most of the crew probably asleep.
Yawning, Kono took a detour through the main hold for some caffa. To his surprise, he found Juhani perched next to the brewer, armed with a large mug of the steaming hot beverage.
"You mind?" he asked. Silently, the Cathar shook her head between sips.
With a thought, Kono plucked a mug of his own from the open locker under the squat, compact counter and helped himself to the potent drink.
He muttered a barely audible 'thanks', to which Juhani responded with an equally unintelligible acknowledgment. Neither were yet sufficiently caffeinated to follow proper etiquette, and neither cared to. Caffa in the morning was unspoken right. Kono winced at the espresso he tasted in the black beverage, but drank it anyway.
When he reached the garage, he turned his mind to serious matters. Picking a lightweight sword from the workbench, Kono started going through his training exercises in vigorous fashion as he considered the road ahead.
If all went well, Manaan would be the last planet to visit, they would have all the coordinates needed to make the hyperspace jump to the Star Forge itself. Depending on any number of millions of independent variables, the task of finding the Star Map on Manaan could conceivably take either a very short or a very, very long time. The whole planet was covered in deep oceans, and if the Map was still in existence, the Selkath would likely know of it. The question was how to get them to cooperate.
Kono had been to Manaan's Ahto City before, and had firsthand experience with the Selkath's restrictive policies surrounding nearly all aspects of life on the city, the only place on the entire planet where non-Selkath were allowed to live and carry out their business. The Prime Director, Fhasu Pnem, was the one who established the Manaan Neutrality Act. In ways, the man was a genius, formulating such a simple but impregnable safeguard against attempted annexation by either the Sith or the Republic. Manaan stayed neutral, and both sides got their supplies of kolto.
The Pnem regime was unpopular with the Republic and Sith both, but life and commerce on Ahto City continued; there were no real problems with the government that bled into civilian and corporate interests. It was, more or less, normal on Ahto City if one wasn't involved in any politics.
That Pnem was stolidly anti-sympathetic and not one to grant favors was Kono's primary problem. He needed not only a favor, but a fairly intrusive one. He needed to scour the ocean for a reason he couldn't reveal, and then possibly leave the planet with a piece of Manaian history in his possession.
Kono would hardly even have time to worry about the Republic or the Sith between all the trouble he was sure to have with the Selkath authorities. Even just getting an audience with Fhasu Pnem would require clandestine measures. The one thing for sure was he would need major dirt on any and all players involved if he intended to get into the messy business of Manaan politics, which was unavoidable. At least, if he expected to survive.
"My Selkath's not that good, but it sounds like we need to have some good reason for wanting to land before he'll let us," Carth announced after listening to the transmission from Ahto City Port Authorities, the Selkath officer's voice grating like wet gravel sloshing inside a porcelain vase.
Kono grunted his acknowledgment, he'd heard as well. It was an unexpected snag; there were supposed to be public docks, even for unscheduled arrivals. But Port Authorities were demanding authorization codes.
Carth looked up at him expectantly. Kono grimaced and typed a few commands on the communications panel.
Several minutes later, the officer reported that there was a clear space for them to land.
Carth's eyebrow shot up suspiciously. "I know for a fact we don't have the authorization he wants. What did you just do?" he asked.
Kono shrugged. "I used an old code that'll get us access to the corporate docks. There's a lot of companies who export kolto and they all hire dozens of attorneys, advisors, and contractors of every sort. It's cover that no one will question, because there are a million and one such people on Ahto City. It's a trick I used a lot in the Special Forces."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Carth asked as he started to bring the ship through Manaan's atmosphere.
For a moment, Kono was puzzled by the question. Then he realized what Carth meant; he had never been in the Special Forces. He was Darth Revan, not Kono Gansk. That part of him wasn't real, it was a fabrication, a facade of reality. The disguise that had been pulled over him, despite the fact that he continued to use it to his own benefit, was nevertheless just that, a disguise. It was no more real than any other.
Why, then, had this worked? It had been second nature to him to use the alias, but by rights it should never have worked. He'd never been to Ahto City, much less passed himself off as a consultant to an export company. The memory implanted in his brain should have been a random figment, not the precise - and dead-on accurate - sequence of a Selkath authorization code that corresponded exactly to the one they needed.
"That's a very good question, Carth," he finally answered, concerned himself.
"Huh, yeah, right," Carth responded with jaundice. "If this turns out to be a trap, you're doing all the talking."
An amused smile tugged at Kono's face. "Don't worry about it."
It was a few minutes before the ship touched down at the indicated docking pad. Fuel and hydraulic lines connected automatically, as did - somewhat ominously - a pair of beefy docking clamps. Kono wasn't concerned about that, though. Selkath security was legendary, and always had been.
Again he wondered at how his fabricated life could so closely resemble reality. All his knowledge seemed to fit, but surely there had to be inconsistencies somewhere, evidence that his thoughts and memories were but illusions, and eventually he would encounter on such contradiction. He worried what that could possibly mean for his mission; it would not be good to discover all of a sudden, at a critical moment, that he had put his faith in a lie. It could happen at any time, just one single piece of recollection that proved false, or a nagging perception of something that did not match reality.
So much depended on him, finding the Star Forge, defeating Malak, preparing for the Destroyers' coming... All it would take was a single mistake and everything was lost.
He'd made a single mistake once before and Caroleen paid. He made another and Bastila had paid. If he made one more, everyone would pay.
Kono pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing once more on what he had to do.
"I'll go make friends with the dock officer," Kono told Carth.
Carth quickly scrambled from his seat. "I'll come with you."
Kono rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright, fine."
Outside, they were greeted by a cross, wrinkled Selkath who spoke like a bad sore throat. "You will follow me to the office and register," he said without so much as introducing himself.
Kono paid the officer's manners - or lack thereof - no mind. Every individual was different, he reasoned, and he wasn't yet ready to go to war with the Selkath race over the sour disposition of one officer.
The Selkath led Kono and Carth across the open deck of docking pads that spread out over several square miles of city real estate to a large building perched at the fringe. Crowds cycled in a steady stream to and from the terminal building, and inside they were revealed in all their diverse splendor. Long lines choked the interior, and the two of them soon found themselves waiting outside an office marked "New Arrivals" in Basic and a variety of other languages.
The lines moved ever so slowly, some dozen or so people waiting on a bureaucratic Selkath official sitting behind a lavish desk who peered at each newcomer with unreadable icthyoid eyes. It was close to two hours before Kono was in.
The Selkath didn't say anything, just shoved a mountain of papers at Kono.
"What is this?" Kono asked as he peered at the myriad forms, waivers, and releases that had been set before him. Carth daintily plucked a few and scanned the dozens upon dozens of lines of small text.
"These are the regulations you are to accept if you wish to keep your ship at our port," the official said in a drone.
"Explain them to me, please," Kono requested.
"Your ship becomes the sole responsibility of the State until such time as you are issued a permit and are allowed to leave. Such permits are made available no sooner than three days after arrival. You are not permitted to inhabit your ship while you are on Ahto City, and any and all weapons found within will be confiscated for the duration of your stay..."
The official's explanation of the regulations took a full twenty minutes. Kono was stunned by the ridiculous laws he was hearing, but agreed to them all regardless, as there was no sense in protesting them now. As irritating as he was, the dreary official was not the one who passed the laws, so objecting would be fruitless. However, these new developments were going to complicate matters.
He had no idea Selkath laws had become so suffocatingly strict.
After signing everything and waiting a few more minutes for the Selkath to file everything and issue a permit of passage into Ahto City proper for him and his crew, Kono asked where he might find the Republic compound. The official directed him to a public information terminal, which was also clogged with lines.
Kono sent Carth off to get the others while he waited, thinking. He wondered how hard it would be to get accommodations on Ahto City, or if he would have a better time getting rooms in the Republic compound. He checked that thought, doubting he wanted to be tied down to the Republic in so total a manner. Kono didn't want to depend on them for anything if he could avoid it. He would work better as a free agent.
The lines were interminably long. Kono had waited a full twenty minutes when he realized he could save time by asking a passerby for directions--what he should have done in the first place. He was beginning to remember why he hated Manaan; Selkath bureaucrats who thought only of lists and lines and registers, everything with a number and done according to procedure. Their very nature precluded spontaneity.
Breaking line, Kono made for a nearby newsstand, where a knowledgeable-looking fellow, an older Twi'lek man, sat behind a counter with meager business. He casually strolled over and purchased a meaningless paper he intended to toss within seconds of leaving the man's stand, leaning over the counter as he extended credit chips to the Twi'lek.
"I need directions to the Republic compound," he said in a conversational tone as the Twi'lek rang up the credits.
"Sorry, I can't answer that," the man replied, keeping his eyes on his work.
"Why not?" Kono pressed.
"What do you mean, 'why not'? Why do you think?" the Twi'lek responded in irritation. "You get information at the information terminals. Not my job. I get paid to sell news, not directions. Sorry, can't help you."
Kono could sense the man's reluctance wasn't born of inherent unhelpfulness, but trained obedience, fear even. In the back of his mind, for reasons he didn't completely understand, alarms starting ringing. He could tell, already, that this was not the Manaan he remembered--no matter how questionable that memory.
He was turning away, deep in thought, when he nearly collided with another pedestrian. The man's blunt features, tanned brown skin, and mountainous build were unfamiliar only for a second, before instant recollection kicked in.
"Marq! Marq Restwood?" Kono exclaimed, surprised beyond words.
"Kono?" Marq's bushy gray eyebrows arched in inquiry, metallic blue eyes still blazing with the same scary intelligence Kono remembered so well. The bear of a man eagerly clasped Kono's outstretched arm in welcome, locking wrists. "I never thought I see you here again, Kono. Especially after that last transfer."
"You know how I am, Marq, after a few years I forget how bad things are and why I said I'd never come back. I don't know, maybe I think things will change, but they hardly ever do."
Marq chuckled, idly scratching his graying hair. "Ain't that the truth. What're you doing here?" He eyed Kono's attire, his choice of weapons. "Looks like that last transfer was more than just housecleaning."
"Yeah," Kono sighed, "a lot happens."
"So are you just passing through?"
"No, actually, I'm on a mission, and I'm going to need information."
Marq clapped a hand on Kono's shoulder. "Tell you what, I know a place in the area. Why don't you come over and we'll talk. I'm out of the forces but still on retainer for the Republic Embassy here; a pretty flexible job. I can probably tell you everything you need to know about Manaan."
"Sounds good to me, Marq."
A dozen other things vied for Kono's attention, namely getting back in touch with Carth and the crew, finding accommodations for their stay on Ahto City, investigating Republic and Sith interests, and starting the necessary sequence of events to get into a meeting with Fhasu Pnem. But the thought that carried the moment was the need to investigate, not for clues to the Star Map, but clues to himself.
Marq Restwood, a good friend and comrade from the Special Forces, should not exist.
"So, Kono, can you tell me what you're doing here on Manaan?" Marq leaned over the narrow table in the smoky confines of the local weed bar, wedged in a far corner away from the street-side entrance.
Marq was paranoid and hadn't said a word while they strolled along the thoroughfares and tall buildings lining every block of the massive floating city. In addition to his friend's unusual silence, compared to other cities Kono had visited, Ahto City was the most subdued he'd ever seen. He heard only a handful of pedestrians carrying on conversation; there were no angry motorists arguing with law enforcement; the crowds themselves seemed to move in slow motion, lethargically shuffling along the sidewalks in an inevitable crush that didn't seem to care where it was going.
Most disturbing were the roving sensor pods of Ahto City police. There was one at every intersection, most sidewalks had at least one patrolling up and down the side of a block, and the lobbies of larger buildings had one stationed in plain view. They were pervasive reminders of Selkath power. As Marq explained in a whisper, they weren't dangerous by themselves, but each and every one could summon legions of armed Selkath officers. There were plenty enough of the uniformed Selkath police patrolling the streets, but the floating, spherical sensor pods ensured that every inch of public street and sidewalk was monitored.
Kono suspected the reason Marq had chosen the weed bar, sat in the corner behind all the smoke and shadow, was to mask his business from law enforcement. That alone told him Marq had connections in dark places.
"Special Jedi business, if you can believe it," he answered the old friend who shouldn't exist.
Marq shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'll tell you one thing, I never would have expected to see you in Jedi robes. There's probably a heck of a story behind that one."
"There certainly is, but I'm afraid I can't really give you the details. You'll just have to settle for 'it's a long story' for now."
"Alright, Kono, fair enough. Nondisclosure and all that red tape. I get it."
"It gets worse. Worse than you know."
Marq sat back on the dark red upholstery of his seat. "Why don't you tell me what you can."
"Maybe you ought to have a drink for this," Kono suggested, in his mind carefully sifting what things he wanted to tell Marq from those things he absolutely needed to. He was surprised to see Marq's expression darken with a glower.
"If only," his friend said.
Kono frowned.
"How long's it been since you were in Ahto City?" Marq asked, his voice dead serious.
Technically speaking, he'd never been to Ahto City. "It has been a few years," he admitted, going with what his memory told him.
Marq grunted. "I guess you might not be aware of how things have changed here on Manaan in recent times."
Now it was Kono's turn to look at his friend with concern on his face. "Something I ought to know about?"
Marq nodded. "Heck yeah, there is. The State passed a whole bunch of new laws, Kono. Not the worst, but among them, is a statute banning the sale of alcohol." He gestured out toward the sidewalk. "That's also where them sensor pods came from. New peacekeeping measures they called 'em. The State's pretty much taken control of life on Ahto City."
Kono had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping. "I didn't think Fhasu Pnem would take things this far."
Marq grimaced. "Please, Kono, don't say that name aloud. The wrong ears hear you and you can be arrested for it."
"Just what has come over this city?"
"You know politics work, Kono. Out with the old, in with the new."
A chill ran up Kono's spine. He had no idea yet how this would affect the mission, but it did not bode well. Fhasu Pnem's regime, restrictive as it had been, was circumventable. From what he'd seen of Manaan, there'd been a power shift, and the new system could be completely different.
"What happened?"
"A member of the Selkath Cabinet, a charming fellow by the name of Ghenn Arph, uncovered evidence that the Prime Director was guilty of sympathies. The Director was quickly deposed and Ghenn Arph named as successor."
"Evidence?" Kono was incredulous.
"Faked, of course. Or it could have been genuine, no one really knows. But the point is, the system bought it, and now the State is Ghenn Arph." Marq twisted his face in mock wonder. "Oh, he brought sweeping changes to Ahto City." He started counting off on his fingers. "For starters, it's forbidden to express 'sympathies' - as they put public opinion - especially for politicians; it's neutrality, or a Selkath gulag. Diplomats have no real power outside the walls of their respective compounds--no immunity here. More businesses are taken over by the State every week, and I'm talking everything from transportation, communication, and power services, to convenience stores. Taxes are rampant. Everything has to be distributed equally, neutrally, between everything and everyone, and it's all got to be registered on more lists than you even want to know about."
Marq stopped, shaking his head.
Kono's worst fears were confirmed; things were just as bad as he'd feared. Working around Fhasu Pnem's system would have been difficult enough, but this would make things nigh impossible. With so much bureaucracy smothering the system, the slim lifelines he'd been counting on had been choked off. Ghenn Arph's aggressive measures to enforce neutrality had insulated the Selkath Cabinet from the influence of either rival power sphere in the city more effectively than ever before.
With the city in the grip of such a fear of the State, working against the government would be more hazardous than Kono cared to imagine.
"How strict are these measures?"
"Very. First few months, people were hauled off the streets by the dozens for anything from civil infractions to merely disrespecting the new laws."
"What kind of--"
Marq made a quick cutting motion which Kono instantly heeded and shut his mouth. He knew from Marq's expression not to turn and look at what held his comrade's gaze. A surreptitious scan with the Force revealed one of the roving sensor pods. It poked into the gloomy interior of the weed bar, took a cursory glance before returning to its patrol.
Kono cursed to himself. Every time he got into the espionage business there was some new thing, some extra obstacle he didn't anticipate. This time, there was a whole slew of them.
Again he put a hand to his temple and tried to sort out his thoughts. There was so much in his head he knew he couldn't trust, because none of it was real, just an illusion pulled over his eyes to blind him to the truth. Yet, here he was, sitting across from an old friend logic told him shouldn't exist, and once again, what he thought was truth had to thrown out the window in favor of the latest enigma.
He couldn't be sure just how much he should expect to turn out as truth or lie.
"Okay, I think I get the picture, Marq."
"I know it's none of my business, but what do you have going on this time?"
"I need to be permitted to explore the sea floor."
Marq winced. "You do know access to the oceans is restricted, Selkath harvesters only. That hasn't changed much, aside from getting stricter. Anything besides their own craft gets blasted out of the water, followed by severe legal action against anyone they even think was involved."
"I know, that's why I was hoping to be able to slide into the cracks of Pnem's government and take this straight to the top." Kono exhaled wearily. "But it looks like the whole planet's gone through a paradigm shift, all the insertion points are going to be different now, and it'll be difficult, if not impossible, to even get to Ghenn Arph, much less get him to sign off on anything."
Kono glanced out the window onto the streets beyond the smoky interior of the weed bar, seeing the multi-racial crowds pass by the hundreds and thousands. He wondered what those individuals were thinking, whether or not they even knew the enormity of what was denied them by the Selkath in the name of peace at all costs. From what Marq had told him, neutrality had become a byword for oppression and totalitarianism, merely another form of the tyranny the Republic stood against.
"Kono," Marq's voice interrupted his thoughts, "how important is this?"
An image played out in Kono's mind; Bastila screaming under the torture his mistakes had brought on her. He could almost feel the ghost of that pain through their mutual connection in the Force, same as he had been seeing her in his troubling dream, same as he'd used her knowledge to accelerate his own training. This was what awaited anyone who would not bow in subservience to brutality if he made another crucial mistake.
Kono clenched his fist. "Vitally important, Marq. But I'll deal. I need to talk to you about something else."
"What is it?"
Kono almost hesitated before asking his question, but this was the one to which he most desperately needed the answer. "What do you remember about Caroleen?"