A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed. I went through the previous chapter and made corrections where I saw them. This chapter is out a little before I would like, but real life has taken hold when I wasn't expecting, and I figured I would get it out while I could. I don't know when the next one will be out, so stay with me.
Chapter 1.
The first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon of the mega city that was Taris, heralding the coming of the sun and the dawning of another day. The top most of the towering spires of the city shone a burnished gold as they reflected the morning rays from their polished Durasteel and Permacrete skins. The gleaming megaliths stood as permanent, unyielding testaments to the glory and magnificence of the city and those who dwelled there in.
A darkly clad, solitary woman stood on a small ledge, barely wide enough to be used as a perch, looking out over the city in the morning light. As the sun rose further in the sky her eyes seemed to glow as the silver mettle of her ocular implants reflected the light in a blinding glair. She stood dressed in tight fitting black combat boots, pants, white sleeveless shirt, and a black nerf hide jacket. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a thick braid that fell down her back, ending at her waste.
She loved to watch the sun rise and set. It was just about the only redeeming quality she could find after three weeks of trudging from day to day on this miserable little world. Three weeks on this planet, and already she had seen the same intolerance, corruption, and all around rot she had come to expect of what was called "civilized society". It was only at times like this, when the sun was just rising, that you could truly see the potential. It was only now when you could see what it could be like. A glorious city, a monument to the greatness of its builders. Then the sun would fully rise and the spell would be broken. When faced with the full force of the revealing light, it wasn't hard to see past the crumbling gilt work to the rotten core beneath. In the light all one need do was walk around to see that the city was not so glorious. It was a monument to the vanity and pried of a few who thought themselves great. It was a pit where the lives of sentience were made to be a living hell for no other reason than they weren't human, or they didn't have enough money. It was the gilded hell hole that she found herself stuck in. More so the longer she stayed.
Tracinya was jolted from her reverie by an incessant beeping coming from her chronometer informing her that it was time to get to work. She quickly sat down, legs dangling over the edge, unslung the black bag holding her modified blaster rifle, and began to unpack it. There was little work to actually be done. She unpacked the rifle and then set about attaching a barrel extension and a high power scope to increase range and accuracy. Her quick movements as she readied the rifle were smooth and precise, possessing a speed and economy that could only be borne of long practice and familiarity. Once her adjustments were complete, she swung the rifle into position, angled down toward the walkway far below, and sighted through the scope. Her ocular implants could boost her vision beyond the limits of most sentience, but making a shot from over a hundred and fifty levels up, without further aid, was well outside her limits. From this height, she could barely make out the small dots that were people going about their everyday lives, and she wanted to hit one specific dot among that teeming throng of life.
As she looked through the powerful scope, the world below leaped into focus. She smoothly moved her focus to the ground level entrance of the building directly across from hers and waited for her target to come to her. Beyond her targets usual schedule and face, shown to her in a holo, she knew nothing. She preferred it this way. She knew the people who she was forced to work for were scum and the targets she was told to kill were almost definitely innocent, a fact that disgusted her. Despite this fact, she still did it. She had to eat after all. Competing in the dueling ring paid well, but not well enough to support her, save up enough to perches passage off this oppressive world, and most importantly pay off her debt to the Exchange. That last one surprised her as much as made her want to find a corner and throw up. Caton had always steered clear of any work that the Exchange had its hooks in, something that was easier said than done when you were a smuggler. More often than not it meant running on a tight budget when you had to pass up the higher paying Exchange jobs for independent work. Despite this, Caton held firm in his no Exchange policy. A sharp pang of self loathing hit her as she thought of what he would say if he saw what she was doing, what she had been doing, and what she would most likely continue doing. She crushed that line of thought and let the familiar walls of ice claim her, numbing the pain. Always numbing, but never fully deadening it. It didn't matter what he would say now.
No matter how much it may sicken her, killing was what she was good at, and it kept her alive. Besides, for the short time she could remember, she had been told that she was a monster, guilty of crimes that were only dwarfed by that of the Sith. If true, it was only right that she started to act like the monster they all said she was.
In the beginning, she had tried to get a decent job as a mechanic from one of Caton's friends. It actually worked out pretty good, until the sith confiscated all her ships, droids, and bikes. After that, business slowed to the point that she was forced to let Tracinya go. No matter how good she was, no one else could or wanted to higher her. Before she knew it she had run up quite a hefty debt that she had no way of paying off. One thing led to another, and she found herself sitting on a ledge getting ready to further stain her hands with the blood of yet another innocent. She had found early on that it helped to not know anything about the person she was killing. That way she could pretend the person actually had it coming for some wrong they most likely weren't guilty of.
A second beeping from her chronometer alerted her that the target was due to make an appearance any minute.
She saw her target leave the building. He was an elderly man with thinning white hair, dressed in a standard red tunic and tan pants and walked with a limp. Quickly she brought the crosshairs to rest right between his eyes and hesitated. His face… His face showed the crow's feet from a joyful life. The weathered skin of a man who worked to provide for his family. His face showed the stress lines of a man burdened by the worries of the world. His face showed a man who had lived, loved, struggled, and in the end knew he had failed. Despite this, his deep brown eyes held a kind warmth that she seldom saw in people. Briefly an image flashed before her eyes. A kindly grandfather played with two young children in a sparsely furnished apartment. As he played with his grandchildren, the worries of the world gnawed away at him from the inside. He was not a wealthy man and he hadn't the funds necessary to care for his grandchildren when their parents died. He had had to borrow money to get an apartment big enough for the three of them and to pay for schooling. He was determined that the children wouldn't be nobodies like he was. They would get the best education he could give them and they would go far in life. He had promised his daughter that much. Now it was coming time to pay his debts and he didn't have the money.
She shook herself, pushing the vision to the back of her mind. She didn't know what the vision was, but she often had them when she was fulfilling a contract and she didn't know how, but they were always true, revealing a part of her soon to be victims' life. She once again focused on the target. He wasn't human, wasn't a man. He was the target she had to eliminate. She cursed her moment of hesitation. In that second she had failed to take the shot, he had merged into the crowd and she couldn't get a clear shot. She followed his path through the crowd looking for an opening and then it came to her. Quickly, so as not to lose her opportunity she ejected the power regulator from the rifle's power pack, brought the crosshairs to bear on the head of a Sith trooper just ahead of the target. She had no love of the Sith and would feel no sadness at his death. She waited for the target to draw up beside the Sith trooper and fired.
The rifle let out a thought shattering scream of power as the entire charge of the power pack was suddenly unleashed, the force of the recoil nearly crushing Cyar'ika's shoulder, as the single bolt of white hot energy came into contact with the helmet of the Sith trooper. In an instant both the head of the trooper and the old man were vaporized, their bodies dropping to the ground, blackened stumps where the necks had once been.
Oblivious to the mass panic of the crowd below her, Tracinya smoothly lowered the rifle and began to disassemble it with the same fluid motions she had used when she had first assembled it. Externally, she was coldly efficient, her face betraying nothing of the feelings beneath the surface. Internally, she was a mass of hatred and self loathing. She could never get used to killing innocents. Men and women with families, who's only problem was that they had crossed the wrong people. She had no problem killing the few gang members who had foolishly attacked her in the lower city. She didn't even have a problem when she accidentally killed Dead Eye Duncan in the ring. In fact, when she had faced them, she had enjoyed it. Not so much the killing, but the challenge of facing another, knowing that one wrong step, failed parry, or stray bolt could be her last and deal out the justice she deserved. All of them were met in combat, with the playing field equal or tipped slightly in their favor. They all could fight back, and they knew the consequences, or at least they should have. Her targets were not met in combat, the playing field was nowhere near equal, and the majority of them had probably only seen a blaster used in holo films. IN short, there was no honor in what she did and when the memories she had were few and seldom happy, her honor actually meant something to her.
The rifle fully disassembled and packed, Tracinya abruptly stood, swung the bag over her shoulder, suppressing a wince of pain from the bruise left by the rifle's recoil, and turned to walk down the ledge. She approached a Transparisteel window in which she had previously cut a hole to gain access to the ledge. She glanced back and down far below where people were still panicking. She vary well may be a monster for the suffering that she inflicted on others, but just maybe she could see to it that no one else suffered who didn't absolutely have to. With that last thought, she turned and disappeared through the window.
She was huddled in a corner in complete darkness, the mettle of the walls and floor of her cell ice on her bear skin. The darkness was too much. She hated the darkness and they knew it. They knew it and yet they still left her in the dark. They would turn off her eyes and leave her alone in the cold and horrible horrible darkness. This darkness wasn't the same as being in a dark room, only seeing black. No, to see black would be a comfort to her, to see anything would be a comfort. This darkness was the total absence of sight. No light, no black, no nothing. It frightened her to be in this darkness, but it terrified her to be left alone like this. She could feel it. Feel it pulling at her. Feel its hunger, coming for her like a hungry predator. Feel the chill of its nearness burn her to her bones and deeper. It was always waiting for her when they turned off her eyes and it was worse when she was alone.
She knew why they left her alone in the darkness. She…She didn't mean to…It was an accident. She didn't mean to hurt the man. He was hurting her like they always did and the numbing ice wouldn't come and take away the pain and she got angry and the man was hurting her he was calling her mean things and accusing her of things she didn't do and she was so angry and tired of being hurt so she hurt him back. She didn't mean to do it.
She began to rock back and forth trying to take her mind off the darkness. She was afraid it would hurt her again. She didn't remember it ever hurting her, but she knew that it had. She knew that it had hurt her and it was unlike any pain she had ever felt before. Even worse then when the other men and women would come hurt her for doing things she didn't do. They would hurt her for killing someone close to them, or destroying a planet, or just for existing.
She stopped rocking when she noticed herself whispering, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" Over and over. She raised her face and screamed. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it! It was an accident! Please! Take away the darkness!" Lowering her face she began to sob uncontrollably, renewing her rocking, all the while she could feel the darkness encroaching on her sanity.
She started when she heard the Dore to her cell squeak open on its hinges and the sound of heavy boots enter the room. Desperately, she scurried on hands and knees from her corner to the sounds of the boots. Finding a leg she latched on as if it were her only life line to sanity. She wasn't alone. There was another person with her. They would keep the darkness away. She looked up at the newcomer tears still running down her face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. It was all my fault. I di…I didn't mean to do it. I…I promise I'll never do it again. Just…Pleas take away the darkness. Pleas…I don't like the darkness. Make it go away." She could feel the man bend down gently brushing a callused hand across her face, wiping away the tears. He rested a finger across her lips silencing any further pleas. She felt something brush up against her left hip.
"You really hurt Talvin."
"I didn't mean to. It…"
"Was an accident. I know, but that doesn't change the fact that you hurt him. He might even die." Deep inside, part of her rejoiced to have hurt him that bad. Maybe he'd stop hurting her now. "You know the rules. You aren't to hurt any of the clients. Not for any reason." She felt the hand brush her hip again moving further down.
"But I didn't mean to do it. I promise, it won't happen again."
"I know." The callused hand brushed her cheek, the other hand moving further down her pocket. "That's why I…"
Tracinya jerked her head off the table, at the same time she felt a sharp pain glance across her leg. Dropping her left hand down low, she drew her boot knife, coming up with blinding speed, she cot the would-be thief's arm and pinned his hand to the table with the knife. The thief, an older human man she now noticed, screeched in pain and tried to jerk his hand back before he found that it simply caused more pain. She was still a little groggy from…What was she doing? She cast a glimpse over the table as her surroundings came flooding in. She was in Javiears Cantina and if the number of empty glasses littering her table were anything to go on, she had just drank enough to put a Bantha down with a case of terminal alcohol poisoning.
Her gaze drifted back to the would-be thief trying to dislodge the knife. With great care she reached over and wiggled the blade. The man let out a snarl, reaching for a knife glistening red with blood that lay on the ground at Tracinya's feet with his remaining hand. Tracinya delivered a sharp kick to the man's gut, sending him back with a whimper, as the blade pinning his hand tore free. Casually, she drew her blaster and took aim.
"You are obviously no thief. No one gets in Javiears with a weapon who isn't supposed to have one. You don't have the look of a fighter about you witch means you obviously when to a lot of trouble to get one in here. Explain yourself. Quickly. So Javiear won't be cleaning what's left of you off the Flore of his fine establishment." The man cradled his injured hand against his chest. His brown eyes held nothing but hatred for her.
"Go ahead." The man spat through clenched teeth. "You've taken everything else. What's my life on top of it?" Tracinya squinted, something pulling at her alcohol addled mind.
"Do I know you?" The man rasped out a bitter laugh.
"You took my wife and daughter for the Exchange. They said it was to cover the remainder of my debts. I only owed 200 credits. Another day and they'd of had them." Tracinya remembered now. The frightened young woman hugging her mother as she cut through the locked door. The mothers hollow stare. Hating her, but consigned to her fate. Their faces were the reason she had come here tonight to drink herself into a stupor. They were to be sold as slaves. The money would more than cover the debt the man had, but Davick was convinced he needed to make an example of anyone who was behind on their payments. Especially now that the Sith were cracking down on his other operations. Her face went hard, her emotions cold, as she remembered the events of just three hours ago. What the men she had turned the woman over to had done. What she had stood by and let them do. The men she worked for weren't the kind you showed weakness to, and her interference would have been seen as weakness.
The man opened his mouth to speak, but Tracinya cut him off with a razed hand. She cast a glance around the room, before lowering her blaster. She lowered her voice. "Ask the Beks about your daughter." The man's eyes lit up, and he moved to speak. "Forget about your wife. She's dead." Strictly speaking a lie, but given the state the woman was in when Tracinya last saw her, she might as well have been. She was broken. Some wounds weren't physical, couldn't be seen, but were fatal all the same. She had done what she could in hiding the daughter, but she couldn't do anything for the mother.
The light in the man's eyes seemed to dim. Tracinya looked away to give the man what privacy she could in his grief. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, but couldn't. It wouldn't help. He already saw her as a monster. He was right. She settled on tossing several credit chips on the table for the drinks, rose shakily to her feet and left.
Carth Onasi threw himself back around a corner, just in time as a blast of intense heat buffeted him from a grenade detonating just feet from where he had been taking cover. The Sith troopers had finally overrun the bridge, and were now chasing him through the maze of corridors to the escape pods. The spire was lost. The entire dam sixth fleet was lost. He and Trask were the only two crew members still aboard. They had stayed to slow the Sith advance, and insure Bastila wasn't captured before she got to the pods. Not that it probably mattered any more. If she wasn't captured on board, the Sith would find her planet side. The attempt at reclaiming Taris from sith control had failed. Even with Bastila, the Sith fleet was just two massive. He still didn't understand where the Sith were getting all the ships. Malak's Sith civil war had cost them much. They shouldn't have had anything near this many.
Carth took cover at another intersection as trask worked at the door controls. Through this door and it was a straight shot to the escape pods. Carth's attention was grabbed from covering the corridor for approaching Sith by Trask Running to another door. "Ensign. What are you doing? Get back on the door now!"
"Just a second sir. I hear something over here. It may be more survivors." Carth felt a chill go up his spine. He had checked the ships systems before they abandoned the bridge. There weren't any more crew aboard.
"NO! Wait!" The door slid open to reveal a Dark Jedi at the end of the corridor, red light saber in hand. Years of conditioning kicked in as without thinking his blasters were already trained and firing as fast as he could squeeze. In the back of his mind he knew it didn't matter, they were both dead, he failed again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Carth saw Trask drop his blaster and draw a vibroblad before rushing the Dark Jedi. As he passed through the door the door panel was struck by a stray bolt the Dark Jedi had reflected back at him. The door slid shut and went into emergency fire containment procedures, locking and erecting a force shield. Carth slumped against the wall. He knew Trask was dead. He should have kept a better eye on him. Stopped him. Done... Something.
He looked up at the sound of boots on deck plating advancing down the corridor he had come from. Carth pulled himself together. No time. He had to keep going. Get to Bastila before the Sith. Had to get her back to command or the Republic was lost. He would do as he always did. He would do his duty. He would complete his mission.
Tracinya staggered off the elevator and onto the upper city walkway. From here it wasn't more than a few blocks to her apartment. However, in her current condition that might be too far. Her right leg didn't seem to want to work, not that her left was much better, and her mind seemed abnormally sluggish. She stopped when she noticed the people around her. They were all quiet, in and of itself out of the ordinary. Odder still, they were all looking at the sky with a mixture of looks, ranging from fascination, to terror. When Tracinya followed their gazes up, her first thought was of the time. It was night. Her binge trip to Javiears and resulting confrontation had made her late in getting home. She began staggering homeward even faster. When her Braine finally caught up to what her eyes had seen she did a double take.
Small bolts of light flickered across the sky, punctuated by the occasional lightning like flash. These lights weren't lightning. Someone was fighting above the planet. The Sith were obviously one side, but who was attacking. Surely the Republic wasn't foolish enough to attack here. According to the news streams, the Sith had eight fleets in system. It would be a disaster. Tracinya noticed clusters of comets falling towards the city. These would be the escape pods from destroyed ships. Tracinya squinted, using her vision to enhance the night sky, looking for more pods. For a battle so large, there should be more escape pods than what she was seeing.
Quickly descending, the few pods she could see began to grow large. Their downward hurtle building to a high pitched scream. People finally began to panic, running for cover. In her current condition, it wasn't likely she'd be able to make it to cover herself. At any rate, given the approaches the pods closest to her were following, they would miss the upper city. Likely they would end up in the lower city. Or if the pilots were truly unlucky, the Under City. She found her eyes drawn to one pod in particular. Something about the pod drew her to it. It was the center of a group of maybe ten other pods. They were traveling close together. Almost as if they were escorting it down. It was then that she saw the Sith fighters following behind, picking off straggling pods. She now understood the lack of more escape pods. As she watched, pods in the tight nit cluster began to intentionally adjust their descents into the path of incoming fire meant for the center most pod. She continued to watch as the formations numbers dwindled. Slowly, something drew her in. She almost felt as if she herself were in the pod. Something familiar. She could feel fear… Distress… Barely reined in. images began to flicker past her eyes. A pretty dark haired woman, a Jedi. Her bright yellow blade crashed against crimson in a blur of complex forms. Then hands at controls. The instrument bored blinking a solid red. Warning alarms blaring. The uncomfortable feel of the heat, and oddly present smell of burnt ozone of reentry. A sharp jarring and then her head cracked against something.
Tracinya was back in her own body. She watched as the fall of the pod that had drawn her attention became erratic. She watched as it glanced off a near buy spire, tearing a gash in the Permacrete side, before continuing down to the Lower City.
She felt at her head. It had felt so real. She would have sworn she was in the Pod… Had smacked her head, but there was no injury. Just the memory of sharp shooting pane, and a massive headache.
Tracinya looked up again at the sound of another falling pod. This one was coming down much faster, closely pursued by three fighters. She watched as the pod weaved between the streams of fire in maneuvers not meant to be made by an escape pod. Despite the pilot's obvious skill, it was still an escape pod, and one of the fighters finally succeeded in delivering a hit to the pods primary stabilizers. The pod instantly reeled out of control. The fighters broke off pursuit, the pods descent now far too erratic, and the occupants' death assured.
One of the Republic escape pods had crashed outside her apartment complex. Tracinya had followed a blood trail to just outside her level before it faded too much for her to track. She felt terror constricting her hart. She had to get home. Had to make sure everything was alright. Make sure they were safe.
Tracinya drug herself along the wall of the habitat ring, making her way to her apartment. Her right leg wouldn't support her wait and kept slipping in her boot. Her circumstances weren't helped any more by the dam cold. There was probably something wrong with the building's dam environmental controls again. She would have to have more words with Drana, the manager of this complex. Explain to her that she was tired of her putting off repairs because aliens lived in the building. Yah. Make sure she understood that if it continued, she might have to bring Drana's Failure to make the last four weeks of payments to the Exchange to Davick's attention. Heh. Make sure she understood how much it would sadden her to have to meet with Drana in a Professional capacity.
Tracinya blinked. She had made it to her door and had been standing in front of it for some time. She slapped her palm on the scanner pad to her door. The lock chimed in acceptance of her palm print. The lock clicked. The door slid open. Tracinya stared down the unwavering barrel of a heavily modified Republic issue blaster. Her hart seized in her chest. She was too late. Before her vision faded and the cold took her, she saw orange and herd two voices call out her name.
A/N: reviews appreciated. Flame or praise, as the mood takes you.