The Cantina was alive with the sounds of talking men and women of varying species. As the two new arrivals to this house of drinking and gambling, none turned their heads to watch them come in. As the two confident men strode towards a free booth in a dark corner, the more rugged looking of the two tapped the other on the shoulder in a personal gesture to get the two of them drinks. Despite attempting to lay low whilst on the station, the two would not be able to accomplish that goal.
An event had occurred not two weeks prior to their arrival at the Citadel Station orbiting the rebuilding world of Telos. Telos VI had been a planet primarily supplied with the fuel from the mining colonies in the asteroid belt and debris field of Peragus II. Two weeks ago, a small DYNASTY class freighter known as the Ebon Hawk, landed in the main hangar bay of one such colony. Aboard the battered and half destroyed freighter was a lone survivor of the attack that had befallen the ship.
That lone survivor was the last known Jedi Knight.
As the man that stayed behind sat down in the booth, waiting for his companion to bring back the two drinks he'd just picked up, he thought back on the events of the past day and a half. He had fought through legions of mining droids, Sith assassins and escaped a Sith Lord. The most important memory though, was the destruction of Peragus II as the Sith Lord opened fire on the Ebon Hawk in it's attempt to escape the grasp of said Sith. In all fairness, he wasn't even a Jedi. He had been exiled almost ten years ago after that final battle of Malachor V, when he'd taken it upon himself to return to the Jedi council. The appearance that this man wore with a false façade of confidence and surety was the last Jedi Exile, Dacen Kenobi.
As he sat there, softly stroking the beard that he'd grown in the war, he thought back on his days as a Jedi apprentice, Padawan and eventually Knight. He remembered the days laughing and joking with other Jedi hopefuls and trainees until the day he'd left for war, only to have the price of such a decision eventually catch up to him.
With a soft sigh, he leant back slightly from his hunched position on the table as his companion brought over their drinks. Two nicely sized bottles of Juma. The two, along with a third companion who had decided to stay in their temporary apartment, had come here in hopes of calming their nerves. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the order that Kreia gave them that something important waited for him there. Now. In this cantina.
As the other man sat down on the seat opposite him, Dacen for the first time, took in everything about his appearance. The man opposite him had helped him escape from the Administration level during the 'lockdown' of the station. With his help, he had successfully escaped the station and he owed the man his life.
The name of his companion was Atton Rand.
Dacen observed every detail, from the way his fingerless gloves were slightly loose on his hands, to his many scratches on his ribbed leather jacket to finally the way his hair hung loosely on his fringe, blowing slightly in the artificial air that was being pumped through the room, keeping it cool enough to accommodate most species. This man was in every sense of the word, a scoundrel.
As both men raised their glasses to their lips to take the first swig of the delicious liquid, a young Twi'lek waitress slowly, almost fearfully approached their booth, carrying a slightly shaky tray that held two more drinks and a small, disposable data pad. Through his quickly returning affinity to the force, he could sense the emotions rolling off the woman like a torrent of rain in the middle of a storm. It was almost overwhelming.
Her emotions were filled with lust, fear, wonder, pain, awe and jealousy. As he took her in out of the corner of his eye as he drank the last few drops of his drink, he realised that word had gotten out that he was 'the last Jedi'.
A fact that he loathed.
Eventually, the woman made it to his and Atton's table, where she quickly gave them their drinks and data pad before making a hasty retreat to the bar. Slowly and deliberately, the two men carefully raised their glasses to their noses and took a cautious sniff each before downing a gulp of the swirling liquid. As they sat there in silence, the two occupants of the booth scanned the cantina for anyone looking unusual or suspicious. As Dacen's eyes scanned the crowd of people, he spotted a Republic officer bickering with an Onderonian soldier about recent politics, an attractive Zeltron eyeing both Dacen and Atton from her spot at the bar, a small fight between a Gamorean and a drunkard and four shaded individuals in a corner booth wearing dark cloaks around their bodies with the hoods drawn up and over their faces.
As Dacen stared at the figures, he was brought out of his musings by Atton's voice calling over the loud music of the cantina, "What does the data pad say?" he asked, pointing a finger at the object in question. As Dacen shrugged and looked once more at the data pad as he picked it up, he spotted the symbol of the Republic etched into the casing of it. Slowly, he thumbed the power for the data pad and watched with a patience created from years of Jedi training and years being the highest ranking General below Revan himself. Slowly, the screen came to life, showing truly how cheap this small piece of equipment really was.
As he read the note, he read it out loud for Atton to hear, his throat burning slightly due to the liquid pleasure, "Been a long time Kenobi. Heard you were on the station, and you just happened to walk in here. Imagine the luck! But we both know that there is no luck, don't we? There is only the force, or has it been so long as for you to forget? If you'd like to talk for old times sake, be behind the TSF station in two hours." he finished slowly. As one, both Dacen and Atton looked up from the data pad and scanned the crowd for any inclination as to who might have sent it. Feeling Atton quickly tapping his arm, he looked towards his ally and looked to where he was pointing cautiously, the group in the corner again.
This time, one of the figures seemed to move. They brought their right arm above the table to take a swig of their glass. What was revealed through part of the cloak falling away intrigued both Atton and Dacen as the two quickly looked at each other with raised eyebrows, they saw a prosthetic, leather-gauntleted right forearm with metal clasps running along it's length.
The two drinkers slowly and subtly watched the group an hour later as they got up and walked out of the cantina. From what they had observed, two were male, the other two female. The species and faces were yet to be discovered.
Thirty minutes later, both Atton and the exile stood up briskly from their seats and made their short journey to the area behind the TSF station, moving between the small crowds of varying ages, keeping out of the way of the un-railed edges of walkway and always making sure not to get caught in a corner. Slowly, both Atton and Dacen checked their concealed blasters and Vibrodaggers before walking around the final corner confidently. As both strode into the mass of storage space behind the station, the two found themselves surrounded between rows upon rows of large containers, each easily the length of a small shuttle.
As the two approached what they believed to be the middle of the room, Atton spun around, blaster out, "What are you doing?" Dacen questioned with a calm voice and face, placing a comforting hand on Atton's right shoulder. After a few deep breaths, Atton stood up straight again and holstered his blaster, shaking his head slowly as he did so, "I felt something move behind me." He muttered. Dacen slowly nodded his head in understanding as he scanned the room with his fledgling senses, his eyes and ears.
As the two made it to the end of the row, stopping as they did so. The moment the two stopped, four figures dropped down from the darkness of the ceiling, each creating cracks where their boots connected with the floor. As one, both Atton and Dacen pulled out their blasters, quickly backing up against one another.
A snap-hiss sound resonated around the two of them as each of the two turn a ghostly white before taking on faces of grim determination. As their assailants spun their blades around their bodies elegantly, the two figures in the middle of the circle, slowly turned around, keeping their backs tightly pressed together. As Dacen looked at their enemies blades, he took in the colours and stances. There was a pink blade, held in a Makashi stance. The assailant was one of the women from earlier.
The other woman held a double bladed azure coloured lightsaber in her right hand, balancing it perfectly. The stance she was leaning towards mostly seemed to be Djem So. The first of the two males he spotted was holding a silver blade, held in the opening stance of Ataru, an aggressive form. The man looked like he'd pounce at any moment. Finally, the last assailant he watched was the second male, and the one with the prosthetic. In his hands were two single hilt lightsabers, each a different colour in their reverse grip. In his right hand, his prosthetic, was a purple blade. In his left was the most worrying colour, but also slightly familiar; a red blade. Both were held in the reverse Juyo stance, but it was obvious that the hilts had been crafted for both grips and a smooth transaction to both in the middle of combat.
As Dan prepared himself for what would ultimately be the end, he heard laughter emanate from each of the assailants as they re-sheathed their blades and hooked the hilts to their belts. As one, each of the men and women around them lifted their hands and pushed back their dark cloaks.
As each cloak pooled around their feet, the look on Dacen's face must have been priceless. Stood before him, were three Jedi he believed to be dead since the news of him being the last one alive reached his ears.
Stood before him was the ever beautiful Sasha, the diplomatic Daniel Newberry and the warrior James Marek.
The fourth Jedi he did not recognise, but the way her body stayed within a foot of Dan's made him grin slightly. Whoever this woman was, she was Dan's, as he was hers. Slowly, he pushed down Atton's raised gun as he put his own blaster away. Suddenly, as James pushed his hair backwards, in the shoulder length centre parting he now seemed to be sporting, he spoke up, "Miss us Kenobi?" James grinned.
AN: WOW! First chapter of the sequal to my Book One: A Jedi's Tale! I've literally known exactly what was going to happen in this story since I began writing my first Book :). I'm appreciative of all reviews to my story, and I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that I'll be able to get at least double that this book. So, who wants to help me get over 26 reviews through out the story arc of this book? :D
The only time I'll write this, Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords, does not belong to me. It is property of Lucas arts in assosiation with Obsidian entertainment. The only characters I will own are, James Marek, Sasha Organa, Shaleena Oritz, Revan Skywalker (referances and discussions will take place on the topic of him. Possibly a holo recording.) and Dacen Kenobi.
RnR
