Disclaimer: All characters belong to Bioware and LucasArts, I didn't create the Star Wars universe, it's just where I daydream.
This is my take/twist on the background or between the lines story from a great game.
Chapter 2
Taris to Dantooine
Trin woke slowly; she had been dreaming. Mission sat nearby and watched her anxiously. Trin smiled reassuringly. "I had the strangest dream."
Mission frowned. "It seemed more like a nightmare."
Trin furrowed her brow trying to recapture the feeling. "I was being followed no—preceded by a dark shape. Everywhere I went this ominous gray cloud stood before me, preceding my every move with some move of it's own. It was like being a shadow."
Mission giggled. "Weird dream. But hey, I once dreamed I was being chased by a protein snack."
Trin giggled with Mission. "Yeah, I've had dreams like that."
Bastila stood just outside the room, where she inadvertently eavesdropped. She'd frozen in shock as Trin described her dream. I have to talk to the council. She senses something.
Bastila couldn't face Trin, she needed to think, to calm down.
Trin looked around confused. "So Mission, why am I in bed? And how did I get here?" She sat up and noticed her state of disarray. "And what happened to my shirt?"
Mission smirked mischievously. "Well, Canderous ripped open your shirt and carried you through here."
Trin eyed the young Twi'lek doubtfully. "Out with it, give me the rest of the story."
Mission giggled again. "You had a hunk of metal in your side, probably from the explosion in Davik's hanger." Her eyes changed, they were haunted. "Anyway after the fire fight with the Sith fighters you came down to the common area and Canderous said you passed out. There was a lot of blood, everywhere."
Trin shook her head. "Strange, I never felt a thing." Then she shrugged. Mission wasn't listening she stared off into space. With a flash of insight Trin realized that the discussion had reminded her of Taris' fate. Trin sat up and put her arms around her young friend. Finally, the dam burst and Mission began to cry. After she ran out of tears, Mission talked about Taris, Zaalbar, the Hidden Beks, and finally, her missing older brother, Griff.
Trin lifted Mission's chin and looked her in the eye. "You'll find your brother, I'm sure of it, and if I can help, I will."
Mission smiled, thankfully. Trin pulled her back into a hug and rubbed her back. Soon the young tough was asleep. Trin lowered her friend down on the bed and covered her with a blanket. She whispered, "Sleep and heal, Mission. Sleep and heal."
Canderous was sitting in the main area with a drink in his hand. He cocked an eyebrow as Trin entered the room and smirked. "I thought Republic tucked you in."
Trin blushed. She strolled over to sit across from Canderous. She said seriously, "I'm glad you had my back."
He nodded.
"Where are Bastila, Zaalbar and Carth?"
"The Jedi Princess is off meditating. The Wookiee just ate then headed off to the bunk room." Then with a raised eyebrow said, "So that leaves your tame Republic soldier in the cockpit flying solo." He chuckled as she blushed again. "And as much as I'm enjoying the view you may want to do something about that shirt before you go see him." He grinned. "Or not."
Trin blushed once more and rolled her eyes. "Pervert!" She wrapped the remains of her shirt around her middle and went forward to talk to Carth. Mission's rambling reminisces had reminded her that there was something she had to do—to tell him.
Carth sat in the cockpit and stared blindly into space. I am obsessed with her. This needs to end. Taris was a mistake and she—she isn't thinking of me. Just then her voice sounded behind him, he hadn't heard her come in.
"Carth, can—can I talk to you?"
"Sure beautiful, pull up a seat." Carth said in what he hoped sounded like a carefree manner. She curled up in the copilot's chair. He glanced in her direction. "How are you feeling? Where's Mission, she's supposed to be keeping an eye on you?"
She smiled. "I'm tired, but okay. Mission did watch over me but she—well, she's hurting over Taris."
Carth stared moodily at the blinking lights on the control board. "Yeah, it's pretty tough to take, losing your home."
Trin nodded in agreement. She was nervous. She had won some respect from Carth and she desperately wanted him to trust her but she had lied.
Carth watched Trin, the emotions danced across her face. It was one of the things he liked about her. The quick play of feelings she showed when her guard was down. "What's eating you gorgeous?"
She bit her lip and started rambling, "I'm not sure where to begin. I—I don't want any lies between us."
Carth turned and stared at the control board, again. Here it comes. I knew it, I knew it.
"It isn't just you" She looked despairingly at him. "I—My service record is inaccurate. That is I told some lies—let me tell you about my past—my childhood."
He didn't say anything.
Trin stifled a sob and got up to leave.
Carth stood, casually strode over and closed the door then crossed his arms. "Go ahead," he said noncommittally. He stared at a spot above her head and waited.
She took a deep breath and spoke quietly, "I—I grew up in a hospital in Grensorast on Deralia. My mother was involved in a chemical accident during her pregnancy with me. It affected my development, specifically, my joint development. My parents were poor miners. For my own protection I had to stay in the hospital. I was actually a ward of the state, but my family visited fairly regularly."
Carth nodded; his eyes dropped to her face.
"I was rarely allowed out of bed, my joints were brittle. They ached constantly. I was told that once I stopped growing there was a treatment. So, I waited, I had little choice. I was educated by vid hookup. When I was about eight I discovered holo networks and started making holo friends. Most of them were much older than I, many were shut-ins or terminally ill. They reminisced about their childhoods, spouses and children. Through them I found I had a talent for alien tongues. I sought opportunities to communicate with other sentients, to learn their ways."
"Sounds lonely."
Trin smiled sadly. "There wasn't much physical contact. You can't expect doctors and nurses to fill that need. Only my brother ever hugged me, my parents were afraid they'd break me. But Darid would stop by on his way home from school. It was the highlight of my day for years. But the war held an irresistible lure for my big brother. When I was ten he enlisted. I missed him terribly but he couldn't have been happier. The messages he sent were full of cheer and bravery, you—you were his hero. He had seen you decorated in a ceremony on Coruscant, he sent me a clip of the ceremony. You were tall and handsome. Every soldier's ideal. I think he was one of many that tried to live up to your standard."
Carth stared stonily into space. She had a crush on me, no, on Carth Onasi, war hero. Great.
"When I was fourteen he came home with a girlfriend, Celeste. She was a tall, willowy woman and a scout. She'd spent some time on the Outer Rim before the Republic recruited her. I idolized her, she was everything I wanted to be and she encouraged me. She was very impressed at my ability with languages. She told me to keep learning, that if my surgeries worked out maybe I could join the fleet someday." Trin sniffed. "When I was fifteen they decided to give me growth inhibitors. Once they stopped my growth they could operate. I was so excited. They shipped me to a hospital on a space station. The cycle of operations, drug treatment and recovery took two years. Darid only visited me there once, but his messages and encouragement helped keep me sane. My parents were so thrilled that their daughter would be able to walk, and have a normal life. They decorated a room for me in their house. They sent me pictures. My life was finally going to begin."
Carth watched as tears started flowing down her face.
She continued in an emotionless voice. "Six months before my release I was sent to a physical therapy centre on the surface for my final recovery. I learned to move under gravity. My parents were supposed to be coming to visit. I became convinced that either they didn't want me back or they couldn't regain custody of me. No one would answer my questions. Two days before my release a case worker came to explain that I'd be living in a home for orphaned teens. She was stuck with the unpleasant task of telling me my family was gone. A mudslide had wiped out Grensorast. Further, when they'd tried to contact my brother through the fleet they discovered that his ship, The Reliance, had been destroyed."
Carth stepped closer, put an arm around her and nodded grimly. "I was at that battle, all hands on The Reliance were lost."
Trin took a deep breath and turned her head to look at Carth. "I didn't think it would matter, it was an escape, an adventure. I contacted Celeste. She vouched for me so I could enlist. We claimed all my records were destroyed with my hometown and that I was a 22 year old, experienced translator and scout with first hand knowledge of dozens of rim worlds. That was three years ago."
She continued fairly calmly, "When my medical records caught up with me, someone in HQ put me on the supply runs instead of kicking me out of the fleet. They claimed it was due to concern for my fragile physical state. But I was fully recovered it wasn't necessary. I think someone had dropped a hint in the right ear. I was never able to confirm my suspicions because Celeste died on The Endeavor the following year." Trin stopped and waited; she looked into his warm brown eyes as they widened in shock. But the first thing out of his mouth was the last thing she expected.
Carth whispered, more to himself than her, "You're twenty." His mind was spinning. She's twenty, twenty, you dirty old man, she's twenty and has a bad crush on Carth Onasi, war hero.
Trin frowned. "Yes, Carth, I'm trying to tell you I lied about my experience when I enlisted. I may have needlessly endangered lives by pretending first hand experience I don't have."
He let go of her and jumped back, an expression of dawning horror crept over his face. I'm old enough to be her father.
Trin looked miserable. "I could have failed in my duty and I'm sorry, I put my crewmates in danger, I put you in danger."
Carth looked up, closed his eyes for a moment then forgave and rejected her all at once. "Don't worry about it, kid. Fudging the numbers a little to enlist is not all that uncommon. The fact is you are a talented young lady."
Trin wanted to shout at him, as Mission had, to make him see more than a kid. But she could sense it was hopeless. He'd found the excuse he needed to keep her at arms length. Any hopes or dreams of him—Trin tightened her jaw. "Thanks for understanding, Carth. I'd appreciate it if you didn't turn me over to the nursery just yet."
He frowned at her. "Nursery?" He shook his head. "I stand by what I said on Taris. You are probably one of the most skilled women I've ever met. You've saved my butt more than once and I'm lucky you were here to help on this mission."
Trin nodded. She thanked him and walked heavily out of the cockpit. She was angry. Her attempt to gain Carth's trust by being honest with him had done the opposite. She gritted her teeth. Despite you, I will save you. You will be happy again.
Carth wanted to call her back. But there was nothing to say. She was twenty, he was thirty-eight. Whatever she wanted him to say—it just wasn't going to happen.
Trin wandered back into the common area. "Where did you get that drink, Canderous?"
He pointed to the storage units at the back of the room with his chilled bottle of Tarisian Ale. "Davik kept a well-stocked ship."
She searched through the cupboards and found protein snacks, a bottle of Deralian whiskey, ice and a glass. She put them down on the table opposite Canderous then went back to the bank of storage units. Her diligent searching was rewarded by the discovery of clothing. Unfortunately, little of it would fit her. She found a utility vest in her size. Without regard for Canderous' presence she pulled of her torn bloody shirt and put on the vest. It was unlike her to wear a sleeveless garment. It showed her scars. She sat down opposite the large Mandalorian and poured herself some whiskey on ice.
She looked at him challengingly. "If you're about to comment on my second show, don't."
Canderous did enjoy the view when her shirt came off, she had a spare muscular frame and nicely shaped breasts. He liked the way the vest hugged her body. The scars on her shoulders and wrists seem almost decorative. But it was not Trin's womanly traits that had attracted Canderous' attention. It was the force of her personality and the fire in her belly. He was perfectly willing to admire the package, he might've even bedded her if she hadn't been enamoured with the republic grunt but he was more interested in Trin, the warrior.
Trin eyed Canderous. "I've only ever had second hand information on your people. Tell me about Mandalorians."
Canderous snorted.
"As payment for the peep show."
Canderous laughed. "You want to hear tales of my exploits? Of the worlds I've seen and fought, of the enemies I've seen die by my hand? Sure, I'll humour you." He paused as he took a swig of his drink. "My name is Canderous of the Mandalorian clan Ordo. I've been fighting across the galaxy for 40 of your years. For my people it's the honour and glory of battle that rules us. It's through combat that we prove our worth, gain renown and make our fortunes."
Trin asked slowly, "Prove your worth to whom?"
Canderous looked at her sharply. "To other Mandalorians, to ourselves and to potential mates."
"Why do you work as a mercenary?"
HE grimaced. "Times have changed now. The Mandalore clans have been scattered across the Outer Rim, The Republic is in decline and the Sith Empire rises to take its place. The clans as they were, aren't a threat, but the galaxy fears us." He snorted. "People think we war out of spite or bloodlust. They don't understand, and fear that. We only wanted the challenge of the battle, and the glory from it—win or lose. And we lost."
"So it's the struggle that matters. The struggle and how a warrior meets it."
Canderous nodded. A fleeting look of sadness crossed his face before he schooled it into his habitual sneer. "But now I have no real challenges. Crushing Davik's enemies and the pathetic gangs in the Lower City of Taris could not be considered the most glorious of tasks."
Trin stood and put a hand on Canderous' shoulder. He sat silently for several minutes.
Finally Canderous spoke in a pained gravelly voice, "When I think of the battles I've fought—the thousands I've killed—the worlds I've burned—I weep for my past." He sat silent for a time. Where the hell did that come from? "We will never again speak of this."
Trin gave his shoulder a pat then went back to her seat. They drank together in a silence that gradually changed from morose to comfortable.
Bastila was engaged in an activity that did not befit a Jedi. The council would want a full report on the Taris incident. They would undoubtedly want to know more about Trin's role in events. Bastila was not one to shirk her duty but being near Trin was very difficult. Trin manipulated the force on an instinctive level; it surged wildly around her. For a force adept it was like standing to close to a whirlwind. The lack of discipline had brought Bastila's mind forcibly to thoughts and memories she usually buried deeply. Although the other woman would not speak of it Bastila was sure she had sensed this turmoil. So torn between a need to maintain her self-control and her dedication to duty, Bastila had resorted to skulking. It had started inadvertently when she happened to overhear Trin describe her dream to Mission. Since then she'd followed Trin as she formed and strengthened bonds with the others: first with Mission, then Carth and finally Canderous. Bastila had managed to catch parts of Trin's conversation with Mission and Canderous but not Carth.
Bastila listened to the lengthy silence in the common room with growing dismay. What could they be doing? With a sick conviction that she would see something she didn't want to Bastila walked into the room..
As Bastila entered the common area; Canderous lit a cigaro. He offered one to Trin; she smiled but refused with a languorous wave. Trin's torn shirt was on the floor and she was wore a short tight vest. Bastila tried to stroll through the room nonchalantly as she wondered if she'd missed the beginning or the end of their—conversation. She walked through to the cockpit.
Carth paced in the limited confines of the cockpit. He muttered, "Twenty? Twenty! Twenty." Just then a female voice sounded behind him. "Not now, not again Trin—" He trailed off as he turned and saw Bastila. "Um, sorry."
Bastila stood in the entrance to the cockpit. Without preamble she asked, "Carth, could you please explain the significance of the vow between Canderous and Trin that you witnessed in Javyar's cantina."
Carth looked at her blankly for a moment. "It was a warrior's vow, a mission vow. They were making a commitment to the mission and each other. I was surprised and suspicious when he reciprocated the vow."
"Reciprocated?"
"Essentially she vowed make his priorities, getting himself off planet, her priorities. He could have just accepted that vow. Though she made it pretty clear she wanted him to return the favour."
"So when he made his vow, he was committing to getting all of us off planet."
"And to her credit, he followed through. This time anyway."
"Do you think there's anything else between them?"
"What? No! No."
Bastila had a sudden thought. "Zaalbar swore a life debt to her, and Mission follows Zaalbar. Is there some sort of bond or connection between the two of you?"
Carth grimaced as though Bastila had punched a bruise. "No, not really. We both vowed to protect the Republic when we signed with the fleet, of course. So it was our joint duty to find you and get you off planet." Carth sighed. "She risked her life repeatedly to insure the success of the mission and that we could—could still be the good guys out there. She went beyond the call of duty."
