Juhani slipped back to her corner, exhausted. The staff in her hand fell like a lead weight.
The slightly furry warrior from Cathar chugged down an entire bottle of water in under a few seconds, her nose taking in the scent of sweat in the training chamber. It had taken a while to build up her muscles using weighted weapons and a strict exercise regimen, but the former slave had become a machine of precision under the Order's guidance.
"Don't tell me you're tired already," Bastila Shan called out from her end of the chamber. "I was just getting started." She grinned and Juhani stared at the braces on her teeth. The beige human's hair hanging loosely. Both were wearing training garments, loose fitting for breathability.
Padawan stared at padawan. Bastila, a nineteen year old, was brash and arrogant. But such things were to be expected. With the council suspecting that the next time they saw Revan she would be fully a Sith, Bastila was currently seeking some method to help the Order. Like a true patriot, she had volunteered to participate in a series of Neurosurgery experiments-the Order desiring to amp Bastila's already potent talent for mind control.
It struck odd to Juhani, herself only a few years into the Order, that Bastila would be recalled to the Dantooine enclave on such hush hush business. much less that she would be paired with the Cathar, who was being trained as the Order's equivalent of a police department's Internal Affairs Officer. Either Bastila had committed treason, or Bastila was needed for some other, more serious purpose.
Juhani, her natural brown locks made to stand on the top of her scalp via a special elastic band, begin to wonder why the Masters needed her to guard the Order's current MVP. Usually she investigated breaches of protocol by young knights. Covertly, of course. Something was in the air. A new sort of tension. They were being prepared for a mission. She could feel it.
"Again?" Bastila asked.
"Patience. This was just to kill time, remember?" Juhani replied, still not quite used to speaking basic, her accent thick. "Master's will want us soon. We must be on best behavior, Da?"
"Right," Bastila replied eagerly, grabbing a towel. "The Master's seem worried to you?"
"Da," Juhani stated bluntly, desiring to share her suspicions with the bubbly, energetic fighter. "But Masters always worry over something."
"I mean, more worried than usual. Dare I say it, they seemed almost...freaked out. Like they were out of their element."
"Padawans?" a Kel-Dor knight called out. "The masters are waiting for you in their private conference room. Be showered and presentable in fifteen minutes."
Bastila's face scrunched like a kinrath pup as she begin to worry.
"We're not in trouble, are we?" she asked Juhani as they headed to the nearby shower stalls.
"Nyet. I no think so," Juhani answered. "Danger, however, is other matter entirely."
"Good morning, Padawans. Please, be seated," Master Atris greeted them, cigar and a glass of whiskey in hand as the students sat down at the end of the long rectangular oak table. The room was simple and curved like an oval, dark brown in terms of color scheme, with white curtains over the closed windows. Juhani had no doubt the room was utterly soundproof. Scenes of flowers and deer were carved into the walls. What caught Juhani's attention was the famous oil painting, "The Death of Xendor", hanging from a nearby archway on her left... Painted by Cambul Marek, a former Jedi and now notorious alcoholic and drug abusing cyborg freak of nature, it depicted a contingent of ancient masters assassinating the first known Dark Jedi. Cambul had captured the man's terror well, as he was depicted being stabbed more than thirty times with various shivs by quite literally the very people who had trained him, attacking him in a public forum in front of a crowd of horrified onlookers, particularly that of Xendor's lover, Arden Lyn. The Jedi had not truly understood the type of enemy they were now dealing with (and would be dealing with from now on) and it was said that they had acted irrationally, assuming him to be some sort of freak, which Xendor had, of course, been, at least at the time.
Juhani refocused her attention on the Echani Jedi master, ice white hair coiled tightly in a conservative bun, her eyes like two jewels of cold blue fire. Her light beige skin wrapped tightly by an even whiter set of Historian's robes. Juhani often answered directly to Atris in most cases when Quatra wasn't instructing her, reporting on who was loyal and who was not, who had broken the code and who still honored it. Juhani was Atris's eyes and ears among the general Jedi population.
"The other masters will be along in a moment. Would you two care for some water?" Atris asked, her clipped refined accent rippling along both Juhani and Bastila's spine.
The pair shook their head. Bastila stood ramrod straight, attempting to look serious and confident. Inwardly, Juhani knew Bastila had an attack of the butterflies in her stomach.
"Ah well suit yourself," Atris replied, opening up a small manila folder. "Hmmm..."
"Is something the matter, Master Atris?" Bastila asked.
"Says here you've manifested Battle Meditation to a limited degree," Atris answered before looking up at the padawan. "Impressive. How are the migraines?"
"I manage, Master Atris," Bastila replied formally, hands folded behind her back.
"I like your attitude. Keep it up and we'll have a secret weapon yet. Now I should warn you that what is said in this room must never leave this room. You are not to ever repeat it to another soul as long as you live what you are about to hear. Is that clear?"
Both nodded and took a seat.
"Excellant. Ah, and here are the other Masters," Atris said as Vrook, Zhar, and Vandar walked in. Vrook, only a greying crown of hair on an otherwise bald head, was wearing his typical frown as he strode in wearing blue robes. He was light colored, and Bastila spotted liver spots on his hand as he sat down. Zhar, a middle aged man of the Twilek species with red skin also sat, wearing a typical brown and white set of robes. Vandar, a green skinned alien who went up to about Bastila's knee floated in on a specially made repulsorlift chair.
"Good morning Padawans," Vrook said gruffly. "Master Atris instructed you on the importance of secrecy?"
"Da," Juhani answered. "We are silent like good poison."
"In that case, let us get straight to the point," Zhar began. "Are any of you familiar with the concept of parrallel universes?"
"Da. Infinite in nature and scope. They contain either versions of ourselves or perhaps even situations and people completely foreign to us," Juhani answered. "Republic scientists currently have no known method of opening doorway to such places, if indeed they even exist."
"But the Jedi council has always known better," Vrook added, scowl deepening. "Multiversal Incursions happen more often than you might think."
"Understand this, Padawans," Vandar now spoke, ancient eyes deepening with concern. "We are taking a terrible risk letting you know anything on this subject. If you should end up falling for whatever reason, the entire galaxy could be put in danger, and we would have no choice but to...silence you."
Juhani's hackles rose. This was definately NOT an ordinary assignment.
"Are you saying there has been an incursion?" Bastila asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes, and recent," Atris answered. "An...interloper arrived. Asking for our assistance."
"We verified the truthfulness of his claims telepathically. He's from a dimension where his version of the Order is only one hundred years old. Still young," Vrook mentioned.
"His version of the Order operates like a police department rather than a sect of monks," Atris added. "He asked directly for you two to aid him. You're both dead ringers for 'his' versions of you."
"What does this brother from another dimension want?" Bastila asked, on pins and needles.
Atris downed the last of her drink, and re-lit her cigar with her pale blue lightsaber.
"Oh, you're going to 'love' this next bit dear Bastila," Atris replied, taking a puff. "He wants you to help kill 'his' Revan."
"We're not assassins," Bastila said firmly. "Why not pass it off to Kenobi?" Bastila had noted with distressing frequency how willingly-eagerly, even-the Order was resorting to a zero tolerance policy. It had already alienated some Jedi, choosing exile rather than serve an order whose first solution was now the lightsaber.
Not so with her. She knew the score-better than most did. A war against the Sith would have to be fought with every measure at their disposal, for the enemy knew no mercy.
Even so, the thought of being used for dirty work was disqueting to the young Jedi. Like it cheapened her somehow.
"Kenobi and Dimmak are best used for when an...example needs to be made," Vandar answered carefully. "If we sent them, we risk a great deal of collateral damage, and we don't want to leave any bigger a footprint than we have to. It's not our territory. Not our rules."
"Apparently on the other side of the pond, Revan is as distrusted there as she was here," Vrook answered. "Apparently, they've had their own experiences with other dimensions. Revan going bad seems fairly common, like it's some sort of flashpoint or something."
"They want to stop a problem before it starts," Zhar explained, folding his hands and sighing. "And after seeing the destruction Revan's caused here by answering the Mandalorians need for war...I'm inclined to be sympathetic."
"If something goes wrong, we'll be trapped there," Juhani said.
"We wouldn't send you there if we didn't know beyond a shadow of a doubt you could be retrieved," Vandar said. "And besides, we must know if the surgeries have taken. We must test you in the most stressful way imaginable."
"You worry too much about trying to convince them, Master Vandar," Vrook spoke detachedly. "They'll go."
"Forgive my impertinence, Master Vrook, but you seem awfully certain of my decision before I've made it," Bastila spoke as respectfully as possible.
Vrook, far from being offended, actually took on an uncomfortable-to-look-at half-smile.
"A friend once told me," he began, folding his arms as he leaned backwards in his seat, staring wistfully out a nearby window, "that when you're old. you'll have yourself a long, long list of memories. If you're lucky most will be good. If not, some will be bad, and if you're really unlucky, some of them will be so bad you'll never want to be reminded of them again. Ever. Now, in the next forty or fifty years, do you really want to live with the memory, 'I once had the chance to go on the trip of a lifetime into a parallel universe and stop a tyrant's rise to power'...but declined?"
"Why, Master Vrook, I misjudged you," Atris joked, taking another puff as she felt the Padawans make their impulsive decision to take the assignment. "You DO have an electrum tongue."
"Can you believe this, Juhani?" Bastila hissed to Juhani after they had been briefed on the mission of a lifetime. "I can't believe we got this sort of Job!"
"Da. Pity it will have to be our little secret," Juhani answered with a throaty rumble.
The pair were by themselves in the construction shop in the sub-level, both busily working on their lightsabers. Bastila's was a single bladed hilt, constructed of a dull brown metal with a heavy looking, bowl-shaped emitter in a silver finish. The activation stud was deep set into the hilt's grip, to avoid accidentally hitting it.
"They must really want to test you. They say you had battle meditation. Is it true?"
"Yes," Bastila sighed, using a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass to carefully remove the cyan colored crystal from the chamber in the hilt.
"Here, Juhani. You can have this," Bastila said, dropping the crystal into the feline-like woman's palm.
"Ooo, pretty. You have replacement?" Juhani inquired, putting it into her pocket.
"Yes," Shan answered, wiping her forehead of the few beads of sweat that had formed in her concentration. She reached around her neck and pulled off a necklace with a small, translucent box filled with yellow light, barely bigger then her thumb. She carefully twisted the cap off and removed a crystal with the light of sunfire trapped within.
"Never thought I'd see you actually use it. Where you get that one from?"
"My father. He gave it to me when I joined," Bastila answered. "Oh, and look at these,"
Bastila pulled out a small scroll from the pocket in her robes. She unfurled them and Juhani stared at the schematics of a hilt with two emitters.
"Double-Blade?" Juhani said. "Master Zez gave you these?
"Actually, It's my own design. I'm...just unsure as to whether I should actually use it."
"I would wait. Be mindful of style's aggressiveness. There is reason they are known as Sith Lightsabers."
"I know, it's just...single hilts always felt so...limiting. Two blades allow more unpredictability. But I suppose I shall have to wait, until I learn a little more discipline, at least," Bastila replied distantly, pocketing the schematics again.
Juhani nodded and continued working on her own blade-, an one-and-a-half hilt design seemingly made of stone with the face of a sharp-toothed gargoyle. It was lightly engraved and bands of quartz shot through the design, making the center where the crystal chamber was visible, just under the small face. It was her own design, deviating from her Master, Quatra. Only a few years ago, and Juhani could not even have dreamed that she could have constructed such a thing, but so much had changed that her painful old life was now being pushed aside.
And from what she could tell, Bastila had probably the same feelings. But where they would take her was anyone's guess.
The pair continued working in silence.
The next day...
"And here, is our...guest," Atris announced, unlocking the turbo-doors of the guest room they had placed the interloper in.
"You're kidding," Bastila breathed.
The figure rose from the queen-sized bed. He was wearing a smooth brown jacket over a white turtleneck sweater with black trim on the neck, and brown slacks and black leather shoes with black leather gloves. He was tall, like...
...like Malak.
Malak-or Alek, in this case, flashed a full smile at Bastila, His bald head bore no tattoos. His face had the same strong yet round jaw again. His eyes were a deep blue, his light skin did not bare the cold paleness of the Dark Side that her version bore.
"Golly, this place is strange. You guys really are a bunch of ascetics over here, aren't you?" he asked, smiling as he marveled at Bastila's likeness to his own version. He held out his hand. "Alek's the name. Constable rank."
Juhani took the hand, shaking it with authority. "Constable? Is that like Knight rank?"
"From what our guest told us," Atris began , sitting down in a nearby durasteel chair with a blue finish, whose curving design arched over her head, "Constable is equivalent to Padawan. Officer is Knight. Investigator is Master."
"I'm really glad you guys decided to help us out. Things have steadily been getting worse. If we don't act now, we'll have a repeat of what's going on with your universe."
"Explain problem," Juhani stated.
Alek sat down on the bed, rubbing his eyes.
"I have reason to suspect that an interloper from your universe has been smuggling Force-based teaching aids to the Revan in mine. The Jedi Agency is tasked with prosecuting and controlling any non-government approved Force Sensitive activity. Making us the only game in town. We like it that way. The Force is too dangerous to explore on anything more than a cursory basis, and then only for critical instances."
Juhani was listening intently, aware that there could potentially be a massive gulf in understanding. This 'Agency' , from what she could tell, endorsed a policy that was beyond what even the most conservative master on her side would be willing to advocate.
From what Alek had just said, it almost sounded like they were a little...afraid of it.
Da, this is good, Juhani thought to herself. Fear of the Force is the start of Wisdom.
"We've been busting perps lately who were much more skilled than they should have been. I saw an Officer at one point get pushed over eight meters into a wall. We've never ran into criminals or techniques that strong before. The area around Coruscant's been showing instances of dimensional rending, and the only thing the boys in the forensics lab could determine was that someone has been making regular trips to our dimension. Which brings us to Revan," Alek continued. "They tell me you already met yours."
"In passing," Juhani answered for herself.
"My Revan's got a whole bunch of people worried. Some people are afraid he's trying to take The Force and turn it into a religion. Have you ever heard anything so insane?" Alek asked.
No one present dared to shift uncomfortably in front of him.
"Anyway, The higher-ups have had it. Revan has to go. It's rather sad actually. Me and him go back twelve years on the job. We passed the academy together. But the thing is, those techniques from your side of the pond? They've made him and his main supporters too dangerous to arrest. Our own methods just aren't good enough. But if we brought in people more familiar with these abilities, then we figure they could easily trounce such relatively unskilled opponents. So we decided to give our Bastila and Juhani the weekend off, come over here and talk to you. You help us do this, we'll owe you. Big."
"How big?" Atris asked, pulling out another cigar and heating the tip with her pale blue lightsaber blade.
"We'll give you something precious: a schematic of the device that brought me here," Alek answered smoothly. "Think. Your time might go a bit easier against your Revan if you had the resources of another Jedi Order to draw on."
"I agree whole heartedly," Atris said, taking a puff. "You've got yourself a deal, Constable Alek. We'll have them over in a short time."
Alek clapped his hands. "Great! Meet me in the Crystal Cave north of this location. I have everything you need set up."
The Crystal Caves the Jedi used to construct their lightsabers had been locked down ever since the 'Interloper' had arrived. The Council had in fact issued a temporary ban on crossing on enclave grounds to surrounding settlements. No one was around to interfere. Juhani and Bastila both felt curiously unsettled at what was about to take place, yet the epic nature of their task made them all the more resolute in the carrying out of it.
"I have butterflies in stomach, Bastila," Juhani said suddenly in her typical thick accent and as-yet-to-fully-develop syntax.
"You too?" Bastila replied. "Did you ever think this would happen when you became a Jedi?"
"Not in million years," Juhani answered. "Do not worry. I right behind you. We have squid and ale when all this over, my treat."
Bastila's stomach turned. "That's...lovely, Juhani. I'm sure it will be delicious."
"Perhaps we find squid and ale over there, Da?" Juhani asked.
Bastila shrugged. "I don't see why not."
As the pair marched on the sunny, grassy plains to the caves, the entire Dantooine council following behind them, Bastila recited the code to calm herself. As if she didn't have enough to worry with where Revan was concerned, who did not yet know she existed but soon would, now someone wanted her to deal with 'their' version.
She should feel honored, she supposed, that the Masters would trust her with such an unfathomably delicate assignment, yet at the same time she was disquieted by the nature of her task. She was being forced to kill a man whose only crime so far, it seemed, was to think for himself. True he had stolen from the Order, and Bastila knew that if there was one thing her version of the Order did not tolerate, it was thievery, but a death sentence seemed...too harsh. It certainly wasn't how Bastila would have done it, but then again, it was not her place to question the will of her masters. She was still a padawan. Once she was a knight she would be trusted with the way things worked in the real world, and be given more autonomy.
Knights these days had a great deal of autonomy, so long as they adhered to council orders and the Jedi Code, they were otherwise allowed to operate in the field as they saw fit. Some even saw fit to set their own objectives, practice techniques the council might not actually approve of.
Not Bastila. Bastila had always been the straight arrow. She had worked hard to earn their trust, and she had a ways to go, but earn it she would. She would not be another Kreia, or Valia Renn. She knew the value in not breaking rank, unlike Revan. She was, as Zhar had once put it, a "Company Professional". A True Believer.
"Though your mission is to kill the Revan of that dimension, you are reminded to leave as little a footprint as possible. Curiosity will only make things harder for 'Their' Jedi," Atris instructed as they went deeper into the cave system, brightly lit by the floodlights the Knights had placed there to guide people to where the great mystery lay.
Alek was waiting in a large chamber carved out by time and water, holding two duffle bags, which he tossed to Juhani and Bastila. The surrounding crystals glowed in every conceivable hue along the walls. Bastila took note of a dark red vein of rock signifying the forbidden red color.
"The clothing and equipment you'll be wearing over there," Alek explained. "Tailored to your measurements, I hope."
The pair nodded, both choosing a different pillar of rock to change behind. Every one waited until they finally showed themselves.
Bastila was dressed in a dark brown trench coat with a pair of brown slacks and black boots, a white cotton shirt hinted at underneath. a white domino mask covered her face.
Juhani also had a domino mask, but it was red, like the rest of her clothing, save for the black armor on her gloves and shins. Her outfit was tighter fitting, a simple set of red cloth slacks and a red leather jacket that did not seem to have either buttons or a zipper. A gold chain bearing a small shield with a set of numbers hung from her neck. a red beanie cap completed the look.
"Spitting image!" he said merrily. he then handed them both what appeared to be batons.
Bastila examined hers with a clinical attitude. It was a double-ended baton, the handle ridged and simple. The rods were built thin, but sturdy.
Bastila saw a small activation plate in the middle. She pressed it.
Small yellow arcs of electricity raced down its length, and Bastila found herself marveling at the bizarre correlation between this weapon and the design and color of the blade she desired to have eventually. If the council ever let her do this sort of thing again, she'd love to go and see just how common her tendency to want to use staff-like weapons actually was.
Juhani's baton was just as simple, but without the second baton. Little arcs of blue electricity raced down it.
"Not as fancy as that lightsaber-thingy of yours, but it will get the job done, trust me," Alek assured. "I'll have them back by tomorrow,"
"See that you do," Vrook replied crankily. "We 'really' need her."
Alek nodded and led the two padawans to a particular rock face.
A small, boxy projector-like device with a an oil-in-water hue on its steel grey surface sat on a brass-colored tri-pod, light from its focusing lens flickering gently to what appeared to be a shimmering mirror image of the same device on the other side in a darkened area.
"Step right on through," Alek said, gesturing elaborately. The pair sighed, took a deep breath and then both leapt through the wide portal at the same time, Alek following close behind.
And then things promptly went to hell.
As soon as Alek was on the other side of the portal, he clicked a small button on a metal stick he had concealed in his palm.
The devices in both universes shattered as the explosive hidden in them went off at the same time.
Before either Padawan could react to what was now a clear-cut act of betrayal, Alek slammed both of them into a rock wall with a powerful pulse of Force energy.
Both were knocked out before they hit the ground
Bastila's eyes fluttered open a few hours later. She was bound with neural restraints. Juhani was nowhere to be found. She lay on a small mattress.
A flood light hit her. She blinked and stared at an approaching shadow in the light.
"I apologize for the deception," the figure said. It was a man, and his voice was strong and charismatic. Listening to it commanded one's full attention.
She had a terrible feeling she knew who was speaking to her.
"You really do look like her, you know?" the figure continued. "The resemblance is perfect. A pity she won't see reason. With her at my side, this would have all gone much smoother. But you are a treasure unto yourself, my dear Bastila of Universe 11-99. You and your friend will be most helpful in demonstrating what the Force is truly capable of. We're not your enemies, and we don't have to be. We want you to help us reach our full potential."
Bastila glowered as best she was able under the bright lights, the figure above her still indistinct from the rays. For someone who didn't want to be enemies, he sure had a funny way of showing it.
"As my father would put it: Ye know not what ye ask," Bastila replied.
"I ask to become a Jedi Knight like yourself, dear Bastila," the figure replied, shifting away from her. She still couldn't make him out. "You don't understand the situation here. The Mandalorian Cartels are gathering strength. The Galaxy is in need of a Jedi Agency that does more than just police our own. We need people ready to stand for the common good. The agency's commission of Senior Investigators refuses to act, when we might be the one power in the galaxy strong enough to resist. The Cartels will roll over our two centuries old Democratic Union with ease unless they are opposed," the figure continued. "But we need techniques that can actually stand up to them. The old techniques of clairvoyance and healing simply are not enough. We need to be able to do what Alek did. We must learn to fight as you do.
"Teaching you would be like giving you a thermal detonator that's been activated. You don't know the kind of hell you'll bring on your dimension. I do. What happens when you start fighting Dark-Siders?"
"What's a Dark-Sider?" the figure asked, obviously perturbed.
Bastila stared in disbelief. They were still innocent.
She decided not to answer.
"We'll talk later, Bastila. Once you see what's going on, you'll do the right thing, I'm sure of it." The figure rose and left "Thanks for the lightsabers, by the way. Alek knew you'd bring them along as an insurance policy."
"Crap," Bastila swore as the figure left. "And three days from my frakking birthday on top of it."
Bastila tongued the inside of her mouth, searching for the small lockpick she had hidden. Neural restraints canceled out any attempt to unlock it via the Force. Maneuvering, she rolled over on her back, tucked her knees in and slipped her arms under her feet, painfully scuffing her thumbs as she did so.
She sat up, picking the restraints feverishly, until the silver cuffs came undone. Now to find Juhani and split.
The trouble was, where to split to. The device that had linked their dimensions was gone. They had no way back.
Bastila started to panic, but calmed herself as she remembered her history lessons. Jedi had been caught in impossible situations before. And if History had taught anything to Bastila, it was this: when a Jedi put their head to it and placed their trust in the Force, they could be absurdly difficult to bring down. Whether facing down a Sith, sneaking across a heavily guarded sector, Force-related landscape experiments gone horribly awry, or even instances of accidental time travel, Jedi could emerge relatively unscathed. Even Dark Jedi could occasionally beat the odds, her own father-once a soldier who had gone into the apprenticeship of one Darth Kitsun to escape the public hanging of the rest of his team-was testament to what grit and determination could do. He had spent years on the run after eventually mastering his potent mind-control talents and fleeing her castle in the night, breaking the mind of her assassin (A sociopath called The Hyena) in the process. Twenty years ago, he'd met her mother while hiding out as a fortune hunter, and the rest was history.
She WOULD escape, she vowed. There was no way out but forward.
Bastila crept through the rock chamber, past the flood light. It was a simple metal gate with a keypad lock on the front of it.
She gave a small gesture of her hand and the gate's internal locks undid themselves, swinging the gate open.
"Ah, the perks to this job," she said quietly to herself.
Bastila began exploring the cave passages, feeling for Juhani's presence.
She stifled a gasp of excitement as she sensed her close by, slowly stirring from unconsciousness in a small chamber with a man in a brown and white set of business clothes stood guard.
Bastila waved her hand and the guard dropped to the floor asleep. Revan hadn't been kidding when he said their techniques were vastly inferior to Bastila's.
"Juhani!" Bastila hissed, reaching the cathar woman as she rose inside her metal cage.
Juhani suffered an anxiety attack as she saw the bars.
"Cage!" She hissed, the brutal memories of her days as a slave hitting her hard. "Get me out of cage!" Juhani started to hyperventilate.
"Juhani, the code! Remember the code!" Bastila whispered, picking open the lock. Juhani nearly tackled her in her desperate effort to escape her hated confines.
Bastila winced as she felt cold sweat on the Cathar woman's fur. Juhani had a terrified look in her eyes, still breathing hard.
"Juhani, shh, it's okay. You're out now. You're out of the cage. You're out," Bastila said, stroking the top of her friends head as the Cathar shook in her arms.
Finally, Juhani composed herself, standing up and smoothing over her clothes. She put her red beanie back on.
"Come. We flee cave," was all she said, not acknowledging that she'd been almost a total wreck the moment before. "I never go into cage again. That was last time."
"I don't doubt it, friend," Bastila said as Juhani helped her up off the rock floor. "C'mon, let's see just how screwy the scenery is."
Bastila grew concerned as she ventured out onto the yellowed grass of Dantooine's fields.
The sky had an ugly brown smog color, Bastila saw dozens of exhaust towers spewing foul toxins into the air, like belching volcano's. The factory technology must be primitive here: This would have been declared an ecological disaster on her end. Clear violations of the health and environmental code were rampant.
Bastila smelled all manner of chemicals in the air. Juhani was coughing bad: Her nose and lungs were more sensitive.
"Juhani, can you make it until we find shelter?" Bastila asked.
Juhani nodded, wheezing, face scrunched in discomfort. "Da. Just don't take long."
Bastila nodded and scanned the dying landscape. She spotted what seemed to be a spaceport in the distance. It was a few kilometers, but they could walk.
As they walked as quickly as possible on the dying grass, Juhani decided to break the silence.
"So Bastila," Juhani wheezed. "I hear your battle meditation have nasty effects."
"You heard right. The Masters aren't sure why, but every time I use my power, I cause rabies-like symptoms to develop in enemy combatants," Bastila answered, wondering how Juhani was even aware of the side effects to begin with.
"Be not naive, Shan. They know why your meditation no work right. They are Jedi Masters. They 'always' know," Juhani asserted.
"And what do you do for the order, Juhani?" Bastila asked, as she took in the dead fields, curious why her partner would assert such a thing.
"To put it in layman's terms? I am Narc," Juhani answered, not caring if Bastila knew her trade in the order. "Atris would not like it if she knew I tell you this."
"Ah, I see. Your secrets safe with me," Bastila replied, grinning as she turned to stare at Juhani. "Of course, that doesn't change the fact you're a dirty, furry little snitch."
Juhani laughed at the joke. "Ha ha. Funny. Maybe we get back and you microwave some more heads."
The pair laughed at this. This was essential. Moments of levity were important in a situation like this.
"C'mon, before this turns into a buddy comedy," Bastila said. "Still don't know how we're going to con our way onto a transport. You think they give Jedi discounts here like back home?"
"I no bet on it. Order only century old here. Not enough time for good reputation, nyet?" Juhani asked.
"Perhaps. It's just it would make it a great deal-DOWN!" Bastila yelled.
Juhani hit the grass, still coughing, as a pulse of nearly invisible sonic waves raced past where her head had been. Juhani tried to reach for her weapons, only to realize that Alek had stripped them both.
"When I get hands on him..." Juhani growled.
Bastila set up a Force bubble around both of them as the pings from sonic weapons impacted from everywhere.
Twelve people wearing brown and white clothes like Alek decloaked, holding sonic rifles.
One man however, dressed in a brown set of slacks, shoes, and a formal jacket with white pinstripes stepped forward. His face was obscured by a dull bronze mask with a small visor. Bastila made the connection instantly.
"Revan," Bastila said simply.
Revan stepped forward, a baton with purple electricity arcing up and down it gripped in his hand. "There is no escape, Jedi Knight. My Agency Defectors surround you. Your strength, incredible as it is, will eventually wear down. Surrender. I told you I am not your enemy. I only want the same gifts you have to protect the innocent," he finished, that same commanding voice giving her pause as it answered.
"I told you before: You don't comprehend what you're asking me to give you," Bastila answered. She dared not make any more mention of the Dark Side: The last thing this particular galaxy needed was some greedy bastard starting that sort of mess 'here'. She held her arms out stretched, keeping the bubble active.
"I'm asking you to help me end the Agency's monopoly on how the Force should best be used! Once we drive the Cartels out of business, we'll prove our ways beyond a shadow of a doubt-"
"Leaving you the head of a brand new cult," Bastila finished. "I've heard this one before. Out of my own Revan's lips. I said no to 'her' as well. This is not the kind of power you can just 'take' for yourself. There are consequences. Bad ones."
"Then 'explain' them! Let us see what we're doing wrong!"
"I didn't mean it like that. Look, Revan, just let us go. Send us back!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Bastila," Revan replied, shaking his head. "You don't know the kind of effort a guy like me had to shell out, the kind of sweet I had to talk, to bring not just one, but two genuine bonafide Jedi to this dimension. This is not a venture I can afford to leave empty handed. We're barely free over here from the tyranny of the Infinite Empire, I refuse to allow all I know to fall to the Cartels. I promise, once you've helped us get established, I'll send you home. But there's too much work to be done."
Revan came a few more steps forward. Juhani was still on the ground. Her wheezing had gotten more severe.
"Your friend here doesn't look so well," Revan mentioned, gesturing to her. "I can help her get medical attention."
"It is trick," Juhani coughed. "He has snake for tongue."
"I'm not lying, Bastila. I want to help her. Please, surrender," Revan asked, holding out a white gloved hand.
Before Bastila could even contemplate taking the offer, a stream of blue blaster bolts rang out. The deadly pulses of energy nearly hit Revan, forcing him to deflect the bolts with his light-baton. The shots hit several defectors, dropping them.
Bastila grabbed Juhani up, hoisting the rapidly weakening Cathar by the shoulder as she bolted across the field, sonic pulses ringing after her.
She spotted it descending from an angle that made it look like it had come out of the smog-obscured sun. It was an airspeeder, bronze in color, and covered in steel conductors in the front and strange steel rods in the back. The canopy appeared armored. As it settled down in front of her. Bastila spotted the insignia: A blaster and a baton shrouded by a pair of white wings.
The side hatch swung open. Bastila was racing into the back seat with Juhani before she realized it.
She felt the vehicle lift off, sonic pulses hitting its underside.