The Nar Shaddaa Massacre

Okay guys, you know the drill! I don't own any of the TSL cast, they all belong to Obsidian Entertainment...but for the purpose of this story, let's just say I'm borrowing them.

8-8-8

After saving Dantooine from the mercenaries and freeing Master Vrook, Nova had decided it was time to head to a place where she could get a strong drink. (And if she knew Master Zez-Kai Ell as well as she thought she did, chances were that he'd be joining her.) Nar Shaddaa, the "Smuggler's Moon" seemed to be the proper place to lay low for awhile. With the appearance of Visas Marr, the Exile no longer felt safe in the Ebon Hawk anymore. If one Sith Assassin could infiltrate it…how many others could too?

Nar Shaddaa was as good a place as any. It was populated enough to get lost in and large enough to be obscure. So long as she didn't attract the attention of the exchange, she'd be all set. It was also a great place to earn some credits and would hopefully provide the crew with some distraction. Moisture evaporators and pastoral hills were driving Atton mad, Kreia restless, Bao-Dur mindless and Disciple homesick.

"We're going to Nar Shaddaa."

Atton gave a large whoop of approval. "There's music to my ears!"

"Do you not think it wiser to go to Onderon first and deal with the instability there?" Kreia's arms were crossed in disapproval; her frown directed more towards Atton then the Exile. "There may yet be a Nar Shaddaa when we return, but if we delay, Onderon may already be lost to us."

Considering just who was on Onderon at that moment, Nova shook her head. "No, Kreia, I'm not ready for Onderon yet." She sensed the older woman's ire through the Force and carried on easily, "it would be foolish of me to march into the middle of a civil war with my connection to the Force as weak as it is."

"She is right," the Miraluka agreed gently. "If she goes to Onderon now, she will fall."

"There is one on Onderon who can stop that from happening," returned Kreia cryptically.

Nova did her best to stop the blush rising up the collar of her tunic. "We're not going to Onderon. I think Master Kavar can handle things there for awhile."

Atton gave her a sidelong look. "And what else is he good at 'handling?'"

"Stuffy, pushy nerf herders." Nova flicked some hair over her shoulder, a gesture of aloofness.

"Hey! Who are you calling stuffy? As soon as we get on that rock," Atton checked the chronometer on his belt, "in one standard hour, I'll be off this ship and in the Red Light District faster than you can say 'Pure Pazaak.'"

"The Red Light District?" Nova frowned, pushing the embarrassment (that was just begging to be addressed) she felt from the Disciple at arm's length. Somewhere in her mind a plan was forming and she didn't need any temptations to distract her. "How familiar with the area are you?"

"Are you kidding?" Atton scratched the back of his neck, seemingly nonchalant despite the menacing look Kreia was giving him. "It's like my second home."

A tiny little worm of pain squirmed itself into Nova's heart. That wasn't quite what she wanted to hear. A second home? No doubt he was keeping track in his head the number of seconds he'd gone without a busty Twi'lek or whatever else they served there.

"So you know it well, 'Atton?'"

Kreia was really testing the scoundrel's nerves. That question mark she deliberately added every time she said his name…if the Exile was as brilliant as she appeared it wouldn't be long. "Yeah, I know it pretty well. "

Nova gazed thoughtfully into the ghostly planetary outline of Nar Shaddaa hovering in front of her. "T3, where's Nar Shaddaa's red light district?"

"Beep boop…dwoooo."

"What do you mean, 'which one?'" asked the Exile, "how many are there?"

"It depends on which of the spaceports you land at," Atton explained. "I'll be taking us in by the refugee sector. It's where I go to hide."

"The refugee sector," nodded Nova, "that sounds alright."

"You are planning something."

Nova grinned at Kreia, her smile lopsided, dangerous.

The Disciple blinked in surprise; she didn't look like herself anymore. It wasn't just her appearance; it was her presence in the Force. It was altered, skewed. "Would you care to tell us then?"

Titling forward on her tiptoes and then back on her heels, Nova tapped her fingers against her thighs. "We don't have any leads on the planet. Its been my experience in the past that places like the Red Light District are filled with excellent sources of information."

"People will spill anything for the right number of credits," confirmed Atton.

Visas bowed her in disagreement. "Are you sure these people will be no different?"

Atton raised an eyebrow, looking at her suspiciously. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"She was a Sith slave, 'Atton.' To ask for anything less than blind obedience would be foolish."

Atton had much preferred being called a "fool" by Kreia as opposed to this constant reminding of his commitment. Kreia was a manipulative schutta and she didn't try to hide it.

"Atton, Kreia, we'll treat each other with respect, thank-you-very-much," chided Nova. "Visas isn't a slave. Not anymore."

"I serve you, Exile," Visas whispered, "my life for yours."

"We serve each other with our lives," corrected Nova, "we're a team. We fight for each other. We defend each other. Its what," she looked pointedly at Kreia, "friends do."

Bao-Dur closed his eyes, remembering a moment a decade ago where a Jedi General had rallied her forces together, inspiring them to run forward and face the Mandalorians head on.

"We fight together! We fight for each other…we defend each other!" She wiped the blood out of her eyes with the back of a torn sleeve. "Our strength lies in our friendship and when we work as one, we will win. The victory is shared, the tears are shed, the blood is shared…but I know you can defeat them." Her lightsaber hissed to life. "I know you can win, because you have each other."

It was what made traveling with the Exile so painful.

"Friends aren't expendable," continued Nova, her gaze still on Kreia, "so that's why we've got to stick together. Strength in numbers. It will only take one group of thugs to kill any of us when we're caught alone."

"Stay by the sides of your comrades. It only takes one contingent of Mandalorians to massacre a small unit. Likewise, it'll only take a small unit to massacre lone Mandalorians."

"And if we're lucky…"

"And if we're lucky…"

"…if we stick with each other and don't abandon ourselves to ruin…"

"…if we stick with each other, and don't abandon ourselves to ruin…"

"We'll all walk out of this alive."

"We'll all walk out of this alive."

Kreia gave a tisk of disapproval. "You are the leader of this group, Exile, you will do as you think is best, though I hope you have considered my warnings."

Nova nodded in respect. "Your fears are concerned and noted."

"But what's the plan?" Atton shifted the holographic image of Nar Shaddaa so that the refugee sector was magnified fifty times its size. "We can either land here, on one of these docking pads or push comes to shove we can always land directly in the Red Light."

"I think we should land here," Nova tapped the Red Light District's 'Lite' Zone.

"The Lite Zone, eh?" Atton thought for a moment, recalling the small area that served as the buffer between commercial Nar Shaddaa and the brothels. "It'll be pretty busy. Especially at night."

"Its much easier to get lost in a crowd than a deserted street," the Exile closed down the holomap. "Trust me, I know. Bonadan is very strict about enforcing its 'no weapons' rule."

"Heh," Atton gave a weak laugh, "you don't have to tell me that."

"So you plan to land in the Nar Shaddaa Lite Zone," questioned the Disciple carefully, "and question the locals?"

"Sort of," Nova's unsettling grin returned. "But more specifically, we're going to play a little game of pretend."

"Doot doot dooooo."

Nova rolled her eyes at Atton's snickering beside her. "Gee, thanks, T3."

Kreia folded her gnarled hands within her robe; perhaps searching for some hidden treasure or weapon tucked away. "What did the droid say?"

"He said - "

"No, Atton," Nova hit him lightly in the chest. "It doesn't matter what he said, Kreia."

"Any more pretending and - "

Nova titled her head to the side and smiled sweetly at the scoundrel. "Atton, I'm the one with lightsaber here. Now is your left hand valuable to you, or are you going to keep provoking me?"

Atton looked over the top of her head as he tried to formulate some witty, trademark response, but instead found himself narrowing his eyes as he watched the Disciple's rapt gaze on the Exile's face. So the pretty-boy Jedi had a little crush on their leader. Well, there was only one man on the ship who had flirting rights and that was him. "Hey, at least it never gets a headache."

"You two are giving me a headache," snapped Kreia wearily. "Now what is this plan, Exile?"

"We're going to become bounty hunters." Nova bobbed her head in a gesture of concession. "Now I know you think I'm crazy, but I've done it before. We can't be Jedi when we land. We've got to be…hard, nasty space scum."

"And just who is going on this…expedition," asked Kreia. "Neither I nor the Miraluka can go with you, Exile."

"I was going to take Atton, Disciple and Bao-Dur."

"General?" Bao-Dur opened his eyes; the serene expression that was permanently glued to his face now colored with some interest.

"Me?" Disciple looked horror struck for a moment.

"They'll probably dress Blondie up like a dancer and put him to work," commented Atton lazily, sidling next to Nova in an overly casual manner.

"Now, Atton - " Nova began, interrupted by another of Kreia's questions.

"And who is going to lead them? You?"

"It's not as strange as you'd think." Atton rested his shoulder against Nova's. "There are plenty of women spacers out there, damn mean schuttas too."

"Still…" Kreia looked at Nova thoughtfully from beneath her hood, sightless eyes seeing what others could not.

"When I was on the Harbinger I grabbed my extra change of clothes from the footlocker. I only had two. The brown civilian garb and my smuggler leather." Nova touched her Jedi robes fondly. "These just weren't important anymore."

"Wait a minute," Atton quickly whirled Nova to face him. "You've been holding out on me? You had leather and you didn't share that information?"

Nova smirked. "I thought you only liked me in my skivvies."

"I'd like you a lot more in leather."

"Not with out- "

The Disciple's polite cough was very charming in its innocence. "The more time we speak, the less time we have to prepare. There is bound to be a docking authority who will want some form of payment."

"He's right. If you are going to do something, do it quickly," advised Kreia.

"Right," Nova nodded her head in agreement. "I'm quickly going to get changed. Bao-Dur, find the biggest and baddest weapons we've got and upgrade them. Atton…" she glanced at the Disciple briefly, "Disciple needs some engine grease and leather. Give him some of your clothes."

"They'll be too big across the chest," protested Atton to Nova's back, "he'll be swimming in them! …swimming in them like a firaxa shark."

"I look forward to this no more than you," said Disciple calmly. "But it is what she wishes."

"Yeah, but if the clothes don't fit you, its not my fault." Atton gestured for the Disciple to move to the male cabins.

Sometime later Nova returned to the common room, discovering Atton looking very moody and Disciple looking very…wow. Atton was taller than the Disciple, and leaner too, so Nova hadn't expected his clothes to fit so…nicely. Some of the outfit was his own: the black boots and gloves, the black pants…but without the beige tunic he looked much older. Sporting one of Atton's extra vests in red and a shirt also in black, he was no longer the Jedi Novice, but a young smuggler with a promising future. Though there was something off about the whole look…

"Atton?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's the stuff you use on your hair?"

"I…I don't use anything on my hair!"

"Yes you do. Could you find it for me?" she cocked out a hip in question.

She was on to him. Again. "…Yeah." Atton sighed in defeat. "I could."

Atton left, leaving Nova and Disciple alone as precious moments ticked on by.

"I never thought I'd see you in anything other than Jedi robes," said Disciple slowly. "I think I prefer you in those best."

"Don't you like my outfit?"

"Oh its nice, very flattering," he smiled at her gently, "but its not you. Not the real you." The black leather pants with their light blue racing stripe, the matching color shirt…the black vest…garnished fully in metallic zippers…the Exile may have looked like a smuggler, but he felt the difference. Mercenaries who had worked for the Republic didn't feel so…inherently good.

"You've been with us for all of a week, Disciple." Nova toyed with the lightsabers clipped on to her belt. "You don't really know any of us."

"Well if that is the case, then I am looking forward to getting to know you."

Nova adjusted the tight ponytail her at the back of her head, the weight odd to the even braids she so often tacked above her ears. "And I'm looking forward to getting to know you too, Di."

He fidgeted subtly with one of the zippers on a back pocket. "I never thought I'd be wearing this one day. It is certainly a new experience."

"I think," Nova wandered over to him and grasped the collar of his vest gently, "that you look very nice, Di. And maybe," she grinned, "you'd indulge me more often by wearing that."

"Well I don't know - "

The Exile laughed and patted his shoulders playfully. "Of course you do. But I can hear Atton and Bao-Dur, so take a seat. We can discuss it later."

Disciple did as he was told, easing himself into a chair near the makeshift pazaak table.

"I found it!" Atton returned clutching a small silver cylinder. Bao-Dur was at his heels, two large repeaters and five small blasters in his arms.

Nova took the gel from Atton when her proffered it to her. "Thank you, Atton!"

"You're welcome…"

Straddling the Disciple in the chair, she rested her elbows on his shoulders, ignoring the shocked looks from the scoundrel and the soldier. Carefully opening the cylinder, she scooped out a fair portion of clear goop and smeared it on the Disciple's hair, slicking it back over his head and behind his ears.

"The hair can make or break you," explained Nova casually, arranging certain strands specifically. She tightened her thighs around the Disciple when he began to shift beneath her uneasily. "If its too sleazy, no one will take you seriously. Leave it too loose, you'll be lynched." Then with a thoughtful look on her face, she dabbed some of the gel on her scalp, destroying any wisp's chance of escaping the ponytail. Satisfied that both she and Disciple were ready to face Nar Shaddaa as hardened space rats, she turned her attention to Bao-Dur. Disciple rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants as soon as Nova had abandoned him for the Zabrak.

Bao-Dur handed her two pistols to put into her holster and gave a single pistol the Disciple who had followed after her. Atton and Nova were to carry two blaster pistols where as Bao-Dur and Disciple would carry one in addition to the heavy repeater.

Nova was about to go and do a last minute check on T3 before strapping herself in for landing, but Atton quickly grabbed her arm.

"Hey, you can't walk around Nar Shaddaa with your lightsabers!"

The Exile had stared at him with an odd look before dropping her gaze to her waist. "A Jedi's primary weapon is her…oh…right." She laughed. "I was the one who said we couldn't look like Jedi."

So it was that when Atton landed the ship in the Lite Zone of Nar Shaddaa, Nova and Disciple left the ship without their lightsabers, relying only one the one or two small daggers on their possession as well as their blasters. Yet regaining her abilities in the Force, Nova thought it a good exercise. Besides, with a little Force Persuade (like the docking fee she had wavered) nothing could go wrong.

It was night on Nar Shaddaa, but that didn't mean that the city slept. In the Lite Zone, there were swarms of people: drunks, merchants, thugs, beggars, droids…all flitted before and through the grand archway highlighted with garish neon red lights. A woman was shrieking in the distance, there were the scattered cries of smaller creatures being trampled by the mob, the grunting of sellers as they reached their bargain price…every scum imaginable thrived and survived in the barren wastes that the Smuggler's Moon called streets.

The group of four was quite a ways from the entrance to the Red Light Zone, yet the transitional barrier seemed so close to them. The air was hot and hazy from the many bodies; and the thrumming, pounding, music from the clubs vibrated through their legs and into the pits of their stomachs. It awoke something dark and primitive, so deep that it mirrored the echo that was slowly reaching out towards them and clutch at their ankles. Here among the stench and the reek of hard living and decay there was a perfect sort of vibrancy. Death mingled with the living, stalking them at every corner, and yet the people lived and wasted their lives fully.

The Exile found it intoxicating. She could feel her head lifting right off her shoulders…a feeling not so dissimilar from the one she'd experienced on Malachor V when the vibrations of the guns were throbbing all around her. As she was then, she was now: the leader. She walked with confident and purposeful steps, no movement frivolous and no energy wasted. Atton trotted just behind her in his usual swaggering fashion. Disciple walked with uneasy steps, stopping and faltering every few feet while Bao-Dur provided some solid anchorage as he brought up the rear. This motley crew was going to save the galaxy.

"General."

Nova glanced over her shoulder to find Bao-Dur shoulder-to-shoulder with a pale looking Disciple. It had been a request to stop. Atton gestured with his head to an alley. Nova glanced between the dark recess and the bright archway that was so close to them and gestured for them to follow her.

With a pragmatic skip to her walk, she led them beyond the curve of the alley, out of sight of the crowd. Disciple leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, his forehead beaded with sweat. "I'm…I'm sorry," he whispered.

Confused, Nova slowly lowered her guard so that she could touch his mind. As soon as she had, she was assaulted by a wave of violent and passionate images. She had been trained from an early age to filter them out, but the Disciple was lacking the advanced teaching. He was suffering from the full effects of this exposure. Now that he had become "aware" of the Force again, his mind was more vulnerable to the extremities of human thought.

Pushing the Disciple against the wall, she rested her forehead against his, their breaths commingling. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I…I can't go in there." His voice was strained…tired.

"Listen to me, Disciple," Nova grasped his face in her hands, her thumbs smoothing over the skin at the corners of his mouth. "We're a team. If you don't go in, then we can't go in."

"But if I do…" he turned pleading blue eyes on her, "I'll lose myself."

Nova shook her head. "No. You won't."

"I can't…"

The Exile moved her mouth to his ear, her words whispered, her breath hot. "Close your eyes for me, Disciple. Close them…" she stroked his cheek gently, "now hear my voice. Just hear my voice…can you hear the currents in it? The currents, Disciple?"

"Y-yes…"

"Good," she smiled against the side of his face. "That's good. Focus on those currents, wrap them around you…feel their tender arms embrace you…" She felt him suck in a shaky in take of breath. "I want you to look at the world, are you with me? Look at the world through those currents…and remember that I'm here to help you."

"You're…here to help me…"

"Yes…I'm here to help you." Her thumb grazed his bottom lip, "when you're in danger find me. Hold onto me as I'm holding onto you like this."

"Like...like this."

"You never have to be afraid, Disciple." You'll never have to walk alone as I did.

You will walk with me.

She caressed him fondly. "I will always walk with you...now breathe in...a deep breathe..." She touched her hand to his chest for emphasis. "One breath of air, one breath of renewal."

Disciple did his best to follow her instructions and as soon as he had filled his lungs, she closed her eyes and focused a wave of concentrated, malleable Force into his mind to heal the damage done by the exposure.

The Disciple jerked in her arms, the air rushing out of him as he collapsed against the wall with a sigh, his eyes blinking owlishly in the dim light. His head felt remarkably clear, no longer was he dancing through lurid dreams of red lust and hatred. He only felt the quiet, protective presence of the Exile in his mind and the feel of her body pressed up against him, her hands lying on his chest, her chin tucked into the crook of his neck. He heard her steady breathing and used it to regain his own rhythm, reestablishing himself tentatively into the Force. He wondered if this is what the Exile felt. "I…can't hear anything anymore."

Nova slid away from, smiling perhaps at the unspoken question. She tapped her temple with a finger. All the damage done to you in this galaxy is created here.

Her student nodded in return. I…understand.

"Protect it. To protect it gives you strength away from pain...pain that could otherwise disable you. Feel the quiet and embrace it." It is in your nature...

"I shall do my best."

The Exile's smile was fleeting. "I know."