Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic

Depth of One Soul

Chapter Two: Sundering

"So, where are we headed?"

The female stormed down the hallway without a second's thought, turning right at another intersection and finding a serviceable elevator at its end. Kay'l kept off the heels of his feet, hard-pressed to follow.

"The detention cells, where else?" she ricocheted, turning back to face him and crossing her arms as they waited for the lift to descend. Just then, two Sith troopers walked by them, pretending to pay them no notice.

Kay'l's reflex hand acted faster than her recognition, cocking a pistol barrel to her breast before she saw or heard it coming. Her eyes followed the barrel's path, then looked up at him, her face unfazed save for a slight glow in her cheeks.

"I can implode that crude gun's energy cell chambers in the blink of an eye, 'dear,'" she said, flashing him an amused smile. "Or I could just kill you, here, now. The Sith soldiers wouldn't mind, you know, cleaning up a spill of biological decay from these floors for a fair slice of that transport we've landed in." In her mind, she pondered the thought of strangling his throat for a moment, but peculiarly, impulsively, thought better of it.

She sighed. "If you'd heard that enraptured fool of a Jedi's words, you'd know that's where we're headed."

Kay'l stared blankly for a moment, delving back through his memory to Varon's words. That wasn't literally what he thought (or hoped) they'd meant. With a thud, the elevator clicked in place and the white wall subdivided at its centre into an entranceway. Three men stepped out, dressed in the common black bridge officer's uniform. One, with silver-red badges to his breast, nodded reverently to the female, promptly addressing, "Good day, Mistress Carella," before striding off in the direction Carella and Kay'l had come. Carella's face somewhat darkened; her eyes lolled into the ceiling after the three had passed. Kay'l thought he saw her frown – and surely not because of her name's mention. Something did not click in the Sith's unenlightened mind.

"Carella, huh?" Kay'l mumbled sarcastically between the elevator's closed doors. "Would it have killed you to tell us?"

"If you think one's name, past, ideals and faith would have actually mattered until now, helped get us here in some way, I'm disgusted your kind can survive so long," she hissed, absentmindedly punching the floor level codes into the side computer while they waited. When she finished, and the lift jolted into motion, she added, "If such a thing does, ever, matter, you can be sure I will tell you, sir. Other such detail builds misguiding friendship and kindles thoughtless trust, both of which aren't required nor helpful in rescuing and escaping from anything."

"You'd be surprised..." Kay'l added nonchalantly, "for all your lecturing."

Carella's face was nearly red, and Kay'l still could not tell what exactly was bothering her and why. "I don't believe you meant that the same way as I do, but never mind. It's trivial even talking of such things." She sighed, refraining herself from discussing whatever was on her mind. "Let's carry on."

Kay'l nodded, following her to an open hall, the lights crafted into an ominous spiked star, no doubt some revered symbol, at the ceiling. Kay'l shuddered, the polished, stainless coherence of the blues and greys on the walls and armour of the on-duty Sith guards a stunning sight to behold. Carella stared at him quizzically, waiting. Startled, he flinched and looked about, then followed slowly.

They passed by a handful of helmeted, resplendent guards Kay'l would have easily called his enemies no matter what side he was on, given any other circumstance. A few twists, turns and protocol formalities, organic and automated, later, and they entered a long hall of small, cube-shaped living quarters. Momentarily, Carella paused and stood with her right hand in mid-air between a wall panel and her side, but the impulse dissipated quickly and she moved on. Kay'l could already hear something up ahead: screeching, visceral screams, pulsing energy fields and the hum of an active carburettor. The detention cells were very near.

"Hello, Conar," Carella said smoothly, halting and nodding respectfully to the security officer as he came up to them, absentmindedly blocking their way to the central control panel on their right. Conar looked like any of the regular officers they had just passed, from Kay'l's perspective: gleaming silver armour encased about a black mesh, his helmet on an unoccupied seat beside where he had been working. Brown hair, dark eyes, stout chin: like almost every other man you could see around here, Kay'l mused.

"Greetings, Carella. Lovely to see your face around this area," he said with half-sincerity, and only the faintest smile. Kay'l fought back his usual sarcastic cough at such blatant private allusions. "... What is it that brings you here, Mistress? New orders, or a bit of pleasure?"

Carella turned her shoulders to Conar and Kay'l respectively so that the three of them formed a triangle, and graciously gestured to Kay'l. "This dangerous man just came back with the last shipment of crystals," she announced proudly. "I'm here to see to it that he is well rewarded."

"I see..." Conar formulated, grinning smugly, "and I take it this fierce young man doesn't want the usual credit exchange?"

"No," added Kay'l casually, but unenthusiastically. He didn't want to guess, nor say more than he needed to, holding back a perplexed stare for Carella.

"Well, of course, then!" Conar chuckled, stretching his arms. "I'll see to it immediately."

Kay'l took one bemused look at Carella before turning back and following Conar, who was already pacing down the corridor.

"And one more thing," Carella added, her tone becoming much more formal. Conar turned around, his hands clasped behind him. She sounded hesitant, and looked at Kay'l for some sign of confirmation before she continued.

"Take him to our honoured guest 4A-19, Conar." She nodded vaguely to him, leaning forward a little as the words crossed her lips. "Both of them could use a little push in the right direction, wouldn't you say?"

Conar took a moment for it to register, then beamed. "Oh! yes, of course. Zaithla'in must have you in the highest regard, I'll bet."

Kay'l smiled hesitantly, then followed Conar as he turned around, down a clostrophobic hall of tiny black cells, all heralded by thick, unwieldy stainless carbonite doors. This had better be worth it, he thought. Although, this time, for what it was worth, at least his reputation wasn't at stake.

The security door clicked open, hissing as pressurized steam and pacifying gas spilt forth. Kay'l almost forgot Conar's advice to hold his breath, but coughed all the same at the sensation as it hit his eyes. Conar patted him on the shoulder. "Well, good luck, man. She's all yours." Then he left.

Kay'l walked in, watching his head down the two heavy steps into the cell, a few feet below the walkway. A long figure lay on the far bench which ran around the cell, curled up in a blanket with a horrified look on her face – and before he thought she had seen him enter. Blood had seemingly long left her features, he noticed, stepped down and returning her gaze.

Kay'l looked at her quizzically, trying not to move, or in any way frighten her. There were tear marks on her cheeks, and the room's smell was certainly less than inviting, but otherwise she looked in healthy enough shape, concealed under a white cotton blanket the Sith had likely not cared to take from her. She looked at Kay'l, preparing, it seemed, for the worst.

"W-... -who are you?" Kay'l asked at length, resting one of his hands on the wall. She was barely a young child, scarcely matured yet, and looked terrified. The mere thought of what Carella had put him up to suddenly hit Kay'l in the face, and made him feel sick.

The girl looked at him with wide, open eyes, likely fearing for her life; and she didn't reply. Kay'l looked at her figure openly, then reeled his eyes back down to the cold metal floor, fighting against his will to not look afraid – or anything else but welcoming. He had never had good experiences with children before, even relations whom he cared only a little for (or, most likely, hated). Lying there, prone and helpless, her lower lip began to shudder. She had no protection, no saviour who could take her away from all the pain and agony, even for a moment; and no doubt the guards had more than violated her at every chance they'd had.

Hesitantly, but resolutely, Kay'l took a step forward and held out his hand. He started the conversation again. "Hello. I'm Kay'l. Kay'l Nadarin. My friends and I are here to get you out of here," he said softly, somewhat more bluntly than how he thought he'd sound.

The girl only looked at him with guilt-stricken despair written in her eyes. He realised now how that could not have meant anything more than the false promises she'd likely accepted in following someone here initially.

A booming thud! threw both of them out of their trails of thought. Some piece of machinery had clicked in place, and started running.

"Switch on the red button to your right," a voice rasped through an old intercomm, loudly enough to make Kay'l flinch. The audio stayed on, and some shuffling was heard before the crackling surface sound was turned off, and the surveillance camera behind them, in one high corner of the room, shut down. Besides the churning, dull hum of moving cylinders in the distance, the room was soon dead silent. The next step Kay'l took forward resounded darkly off the hollow walls. Frightened once more, the girl instinctively drew back to the corner of her bench, guilty eyes and adrenaline-garbed, thin arms waiting on Kay'l's movements. She looked little more than an innocent slave girl.

Kay'l backtracked, feeling less guilt now than he'd had had initially in coming here, his mind far beyond even the slightest thought of harming her. "W-...What's your name?" he asked again, trying to keep a straight tone throughout a myriad of mixed emotions.

Impulsively, the girl banged a palm on the wall, then looked back at Kay'l aggressively, determinate, but also with a faint tone of care. For a moment, Kay'l flinched, and he put a hand to his face, feeling dizzy. Uneasiness swept over him. He closed his eyes, noticing that he couldn't see very well out of them.

Almost immediately, a flash of distinct, blinding colour ignited and disappeared in the space of an eye blink. The vision was too bright at first for him to decipher it, but gradually it came back to him. Grass. Green meadows. A beige, aqua-trimmed, flat city. Beautiful, picturesque sunrise, the kind even travel propaganda would have to take great pains to create digitally; though a speck of black, almost hidden from view, drew the eye into a corner – perhaps the shadow of a moving spacecraft (one of many small ships moving about the high thermals). And in the centre stood a tall, well-built woman – long, fair blond hair, beautiful, piercing eyes – with a young child in her arms. Kay'l thought he saw initials in a crevice of the woman's robe, likely a clothing tag, but couldn't make out the words. There was also a glint, a strange yellow light covering most of the sky. It looked like the reflection of an old desk lamp. Quickly, he tried to spot other details and reflections that could tell him more of the picture, but the image began to blur, then disappear, leaving Kay'l with his eyes shut, his hands on his forehead, standing in front of the little girl once more.

Deep, heavy breaths, feeling almost like a burden after that glimpse of paradise, tried to centre and re-coordinate his senses. Gradually, Kay'l remembered where he was, why he was here, Carella, Varon, and what they were doing. When his eyes opened again, and he looked once more onto the lost, hopeless girl, he still could not remember who she was, or if she had ever told him.

A few minutes passed before his mind finally readjusted, and Kay'l could gather the strength to talk to her.

"What was that?" he asked, his tone dancing with uncertain astonishment. Part of him knew she must have the answers he was looking for; another part had no idea why he was asking her that question; and Kay'l found it difficult throughout to keep a straight face or state of mind.

From her tiny corner of the room, the girl kept her eyes glued on Kay'l, though Kay'l noticed that she did not look frightened anymore. What she was doing bewildered him, but somehow, as if from somewhere deep inside of him, he felt that he knew she was not hostile. That she only meant to help him.

The effects wore down, and Kay'l felt light-headed. The girl still stared at him, devoid of emotion's guile. He felt as powerless to the world as she must feel to this starship; and silent brooding swept over him for the instant, until he saw her near his shoulder.

Kay'l.

"Kay'l," she said. The soft, creamy voice trailed through his senses and the echoing chamber almost without resistance, as if Kay'l had recalled it by memory. Her hand reached his shoulder, causing him to blink a few times before recognizing the place, and her. She had stood up, and looked roughly a foot shorter than him. Small white robes were wrapped about her, obviously makeshift clothing that was easy for the guards to clean. Her hair looked unkempt after obvious negligence shown her by the guards and other Sith officers. But what truly captivated Kay'l were her sparkling, resplendent jade green eyes, scintillating as if light bounced off the contours of her retinas before shimmering back into her surroundings with embellished charm. It captured the pallid fury of braced lightning, as he had seen once, in an electicity test on one of the Core Worlds, a soft energy he had never expected to find again in all his travels. She looked pale, searching for something. Something within me, he measured.

"Let's go," she said, taking his shoulder, her head gesturing to the door. Kay'l shook his head about to wake himself up, then opened the door and led her outside, snatching his blaster rifle from its resting place on the wall outside the girl's cell, as he saw blaster fire and thick smoke wafting from the control station he had left Carella in.


"So, he really did something that great for her to let him in there?" Conar wondered, part in admiration, leaning against the detention controls. He turned to Carella, his only source of amusement. The room had been almost utterly silent for the past five minutes.

"Well, actually... she didn't let him in there," Carella admitted, her eyes coolly staring into Conar's own with a look of prideful rebellion. What would have been a satisfying exchange of glances suddenly panged into a feeling of bitter, poison-edged terror. Conar's eyes bulged; he didn't dare reach for his blaster, as it wouldn't have done him any good anyways. Within moments, he lay still on the floor, lifeless, still clutching at his neck.

At his fall, the other guards in sight almost immediately had their blasters drawn, taking aim at the young Sith. Carella searched for her lightsabre and brought a hand up to catch it in mid-air, then remembered what had happened to it after her parley with Varon, and crouched under the cell controls as laser fire sparked from all directions above her. This might not have been the wisest course of action, she mused.

"Rogue Jedi in Detention Blocks 4-A. I repeat, traitor alert: rogue Jedi in the prisoner's quart-"

It was easy to place and lock on to the man by the comm-link, having taken in a long survey of her surroundings the minutes after Kay'l had left them. The man lay dead in an instant; though the fact hardly mattered now that the entire ship was alerted to their whereabouts. Perhaps Kay'l had heard it, and would at least hurry up with rescuing that child. Where Varon or her master were, she didn't try to guess. What mattered now was her survival, and for the first time, she was being threatened on her own ship, the only home she had ever known.

Carella risked a glance between rounds of blaster fire and caught sight of five armoured Sith troopers heading down the hall towards her, in addition to the three scattered around the detention controls. She reached for the blaster pistol at her belt, got on one knee to take aim. Her skill with pistols was far from outstanding, but it would be enough to take out the remaining guards. The five troopers would have to be dealt with simultaneously. She risked her position and took aim at the main control panel, igniting, sending a deafening shockwave through the comm-link before the life feed went dead. Hopefully, Conar had left Kay'l's room open, now that the doors couldn't be controlled from here; but currently it wasn't of much interest to her. Carella ducked another round of blaster fire, then pulled up and fired at the nearest guard, a Twi'lek woman investigating the burnt out control desk.

The timed, heavy footsteps of approaching Sith troopers echoed further and louder into the control room past every breath. Carella took aim at another guard, taking him down; but not before a stray blaster shot from behind hit her in the shoulder. Ducking down, she dropped the pistol and clutched at the wound, which felt like a hot metal branding iron had seared and scorched her skin. She fought hard to concentrate, but saw little else she could do. Smoke from the burnt controls stretched further into the room, and with little place to hide, Carella crept into the foot space under one of the boards and waited.

The Sith troopers' footsteps began to slow rhythmically, then stop at the room entrance, blasters drawn. The last surviving guard was obviously trying to make eye contact and communicate wordlessly. The troopers shuffled a little, then spread out, their weapons certainly aimed at the console Carella was under, though the smoke obviously hindered their chance to take initiative. Their thoughts were too vague for her to pick up; she had not the strength left to fight past her pain and see clearly. Regardless, she had her instincts to at least keep them at arm's length for the moment.

Carella winced. The smoke hurt her eyes, and it quickly became a struggle to keep them open. Her eyes closed, she felt blind and helpless, despite her training both at nullifying discomfort and seeing through the exteriors around herself. That excruciation, unbearable pain! She could not find the strength to concentrate.

Time began slipping from her side. Her blaster pistol lay on the ground half a foot out of arm's reach, and directly in the troopers' line of vision. Carella cursed; her heavy breathing would give her away soon enough. She had to get out of this. Her life depended on it.

Suddenly, almost without warning, the pain seemed to go away, chilling her heart. Carella shivered, feeling light-headed all at once like a spectre had drained the blood from her head and torn the floor out from under her, leaving Carella endlessly falling in space towards the nearest source of gravity. She caught the image of one armed trooper in the corner of her mind, held on to it. For an instant, it was all she could think about, until the pain began creeping back through her senses and hatred welled up above her spine, near the wound. Carella's mind, then, felt like lightning.

The first Sith to find her, cradled up behind one control panel, did not have the time to shout a warning.


"It's all safe, kid," Kay'l called, turning back through the thick shroud to the cell block hallway. "You can come out, now." His blaster lay at his side, and only when the automated fire extinguishing program sprinkled into action did Kay'l finally locate Carella, lying with her back to a control panel, her left hand clutching at her right shoulder in pain. Kay'l squatted down beside her, then turned his head back to make sure the little girl was coming.

"You alright?" he asked Carella, reaching over to touch her shoulder.

Carella's returning stare spoke of weariness and intense agony, and it startled him. Her eyes suddenly closed, then squinted open, and she put a hand up gently to stop him. "It's fine," she said. "We should get moving."

Kay'l emerged into pensive thought, fighting against a persistent nagging impulse to find some kind of bandaging or care for the wound before they continued. But eventually, he reasoned, there was no point to it even if he had the resources on hand; they had to get back to his ship, alive. Nothing else mattered to them now but their safety. Though why he trusted a Sith Apprentice so suddenly, his conscience paid little heed to.

"Let's go," the girl cried from behind them, coming up again to Kay'l's shoulder, just as she had in the cell (though this time he was at eye-level). Her face seemed to remind Kay'l of some foreign urgency, though how she possibly knew what was going on better than her rescuer remained a mystery.

"And what's your name?" Carella asked, smiling faintly as if she found a natural satisfaction in those words.

The little girl straightened, taking a good look at Carella with noticeable discomfort. "Elianne," she mumbled hesitantly.

"Very, well, Elianne... Let's go," Carella agreed, and reached to Kay'l to help her stand. Elianne handed Carella her pistol, and Kay'l quickly took the lead, absentmindedly finding the passageway they had come out of at an intersection up ahead. After a few moments, they had reached the main corridor leading to the elevator, but Elianne came up to Kay'l and stopped him before they went on, sounding curiously afraid.

"Don't go that way," she said suddenly. Kay'l turned and faced her, somewhat surprised. "Go some place else. There's more people that way."

"Kid – Elianne, sorry," Kay'l corrected himself carefully; "I know how to handle a blaster against these guys. Don'-"

"-She's right, Kay'l," Carella agreed from behind her. "There – take that pathway to your left. It's a longer way, but there's rarely any guards patrolling that corridor."

"If they were looking for us, they'd already be here," Kay'l mumbled, but he was forced to agree. He knew what he was doing and what he had to, which was enough for now. Acquiescently, he led them on, blaster raised.


Varon scuttled through the hallway and into the bridge elevator in complete solitude. The place lay ominously quiet, save for a lone branch of terminals its users had not bothered to shut down. The crew had doubtlessly vacated this level upon Varon's arrival, and no doubt to prepare a few surprises on the way ahead. At a glance to his right, Varon saw a solitary crewman dart past an intersection in the hall ahead, but paid him no notice. The worst the man could do was shut an elevator down, and at this point, whatever his intention, his presence would mean that that less attention would be laid on Kay'l and his accomplices, helping them find a safer way out. Most of the guardsmen had already been dealt with by him, anyways, and Kay'l and the girl were more than capable.

Satisfied with his surroundings, Varon punched a few numbers into the elevator terminal, sat back, and waited as the elevator's lift cables raced into action towards the bridge, relaxing his muscles. The stillness of the ship about him bore deep into Varon's conscience. In a way it focused him, both in his senses and in the back of his mind. He knew she was here, somewhere, dutifully hidden as all young Sith found themselves, and their own thoughts, after the trials of the Academies. This Zaithla'in had a power, or at least a knack for things, that Varon had rarely felt in a Sith before. The ship, and nearly every guard he had wandered into, had that copious scent about it – and it wasn't simply some power of Sith discipline. He couldn't place it – it almost reminded him of someone else, some other trait which felt so distinctly sour – and why it even mattered now was trivial; but he sensed this connection heavily. Searching her thoughts did not help at all: her will could almost not be infiltrated.

The floor numbers, digitally imposed above the elevator doors, began changing faster; Varon instinctively popped his ears, though the pressurized atmosphere did not require him to. Gradually, the numbers slowed in increments, then halted, nearly 30 levels above the docking hangar. Varon swallowed again, unclipped his lightsabre from his belt, and adjusted his eyes, looking about the hallway, then into the main bridge directly in front of the elevators. Logically, he knew there would likely be two scores of pilots, crew and Sith warriors waiting for him the instant he stepped past the door's thick, iron plating; what he didn't understand was why he could not sense any of them.

The command deck felt, and looked, entirely abandoned. Cautiously stepping out into the great hall, Varon looked around skeptically. It was dimly lit, its walls a crisp black tone that sharply contrasted the stainless steel of the ship's roof plating. Where he had expected to see layouts, schematics, and systems consoles, there was a bare, daunting, empty wall. Its opposite side, shaped like an inverted curve, following the contour of the ship, commanded a spectacular view of the bow; but other than that, the deck offered an ideal training room, an inference that caused Varon to cock an eyebrow. He already knew that his response would have likely been meticulously planned for, but he had never guessed – nor could now justify – what he saw now. On the far side, centred between the ends of the room, stood one solitary, black figure, and even at that distance Varon could make out that she was smiling.

Varon stepped forward, automatically pinpointing and feeling each and every muscle, fibre, and cell of his body, stretching it, honing it, and brightening his list of options. He held her stare with a grim, expressionless frame of mind, taking no privileges to his task at hand. He simply closed the gap, and Zaithla'in waited, humouring him.

Zaithla'in's smile broadened the moment he passed the centre of the room, her arms relaxed and ready beside her. From what Varon guessed, she appeared to be slouching.

"What has it been, Varon? Five, ten years, since the academy came looking for me?" she reflected, tilting her head in mocking compassion. "I'm not impressed."

Varon's guise did not flinch, but he slowed down as he approached within ten feet of Zaithla'in. "You do not need to be," he agreed. "It was a while before they locked on to a few hidden frequencies, but I'm scarcely impressed that you could not find this out."

"And what makes you think I didn't, Jedi? Our Corath business here is purely legitimate, and I doubt they spent so much time just for you to come this far." Her eyes lowered, noticing Varon's lightsabre at his belt. "Is that a heresy, Varon?"

"Think what you will imagine," he answered, halting as the folds of his robes swayed out from under him, "but the souls of all those living will never pity you more than I see you now. Your brief reign is at an end." He paused, gauging her. "But this authority did not come from the Republic."

"Ha! Then you are a band of mercenaries after all." The brooding pupils of her piercing, red eyes ascended again to meet his own, and she held his gaze for a while, pensively. "I see in your eyes a fire that longs for revelations, forgotten jubilees," she said finally.

"The Taris authorities betrayed you, Zaithla'in." Varon's voice was grave, heralding an unsaid truth. "This empire of yours is nothing but a burning ecstacy, shedding light to the torture and lament you've wrought upon this planet." His calm complexion gradually engaged into a dire stoicism. "I will not let you die in sanctity."

"Good," Zaithla'in whispered. "Then I will enjoy this. And remember it."


Carella and Elianne watched Kay'l go, the elevator doors sliding in front of him as the two made their way down to the hangar. What made him think that the Jedi needed his help, Carella mused, was beyond her understanding. Though, this way, it made her life a whole lot easier.

Elianne leaned on the wall in the opposite corner, looking down gravely. Splitting up on board a giant ship was her idea of never seeing each other again, and the thought brought bad memories to bear. A tear rolled down her cheek, though she was bitterly silent.

To her surprise, Carella noticed it almost instinctively. She neither moved nor looked at Elianne; but from one contemplative sigh both girls seemed to understand each other. "Be calm, sweet child," she whispered suavely.

Sleep, breathe, wonderful things,

Scarcen now anxiety.

Sleep, sigh, restoring seams

My love, your dreams... serenity.

Elianne was silent. Shyly, she rose her head to look at Carella, awe-struck.

Carella continued aloud, the slight shrug of her shoulders not seeming to pay mind to Elianne's rapture:

"And Hope, wish, delay your teem,

Let go your speech, undone ecstacy,

Caress the bonds of that you feel

Faith in ends of, nature's grief."

"Where did you learn that?" Elianne asked her softly.

Carella fondly smiled, looking down at her. "I remember, my mother used to tell me those story rhymes when I was a child, though it was so long ago..." She paused in reminiscence. "I only remember a little of the first lines, although I can't remember what language she said them in. I made up some of those words to finish it."

Carella looked down at Elianne's face, star-struck with wonder. The child's mouth was half-open, between saying something and turning around. It appeared clear to Carella that she wanted to express herself, but didn't know of anything to say. And it brought feelings to her that she had so long forgotten, almost making Carella feel the same way.

"I'm glad you liked it," she smiled, somewhat bewildered.

Carella's eyes turned to the elevator doors, and the lift came to a halt. Blaster marks still scarred the walls outside and bodies littered the floor, the same victims she and Kay'l had seen on their way to the elevator terminal. From the looks of things, Varon had not yet returned.

"Hold on," Carella said. "I've got an idea."

Slowly standing up, she took Elianne by the hand, glancing out either side of the elevator hall before heading in the opposite direction she and Kay'l had initially come from. Elianne felt a spark of adrenaline, sensing her companion's freshened vigor, but she duly saw that something wasn't right.

"Where are we going, Carella?" she asked curiously, tugging on Carella's hand slightly.

Carella turned to her and smiled. "There's something I'd like to show you, Elianne. Don't worry, it's not too far." And we seem to have tons of time from the look of things, she thought.

Elianne visibly did not feel so sure. She looked about suddenly, and lost track of trying to keep up, leaving Carella to pull her hand forward every so often. Her hand began to tremble slightly; and by this time Carella stopped and asked what was the matter.

"I... I don't know," Elianne said sheepishly. She looked back down the hall in fear.

"Well, don't worry!" Carella replied, playfully rubbing Elianne's hair. "We're quite alright."

Though Elianne didn't deny it, she did not feel the same way as her companion. Down the hall, Carella let go of Elianne's hand and stepped up to a terminal, carefully entering a set of codes she hoped wouldn't alert the bridge of anything unusual. Elianne looked about cautiously, trying to spot a pair of prying eyes. Right beside the terminal, a small, single person-sized door slid open. Soft hues of red emanated from inside, though the room didn't appear to shed its own source of light.

"Come in," Carella offered, humbly gesturing for Elianne to head in first. Eventually, the child assented and gingerly stepped in. When they both had entered, Carella closed the doors and lit the room from an inside panel near the entrance.

Elianne was a few paces inside when the lights flickered on, casting pale, lurching shadows throughout the room. It was larger than the prison control centre, with a giant practice room in the middle which stood in for a meditation chamber. Two wall-mounted beds lay on the far side, near a door which likely led to a washroom, and a row of tall lockers lined the wall nearest to her bed, apparently used as a Sith's 'wardrobe.' At the far corner, a small metal chest provided the only unknown necessity to her room's modest assortment. The lights were too dim to tell precisely, but Elianne guessed that the walls were some kind of greyish-red colour throughout most of the room, though the floor on the far side, near her bed and lockers, was contrastingly white, after a black margin split the floor colours across the middle of the room.

As if on impulse, Carella sauntered to one locker, second from the right, and began undressing in front of Elianne, leaving her to gaze about the room as she stood near its centre. Behind her, Elianne noticed a slight curve in the floor, part of a circular crevice which slid the floor down one inch, denoting a circle to meditate over. It wasn't long before her eyes strayed on the chest in the corner, something Carella had guessed would happen, before she noticed her stare.

"You can open it if you want," Carella answered the unsaid thought, wriggling into a soft, thin white undershirt. "Just don't touch anything inside it. You can press the red button."

Walking over to the chest, she now noticed how it looked much more like a box or compartment than like a chest at all; a rectangular middle section in the top and front side could open out, not the entire top half. Elianne knelt down hesitantly, then looked for the button.

Carella tightened and adjusted the buckle on her black mesh leggings, then put on a contrasting thick red shirt before making her way over behind Elianne, who still stood there, motionless. Resting a hand on her shoulder, she felt Elianne's cheek had gone cold.

Under her eyes lay two scattered papers, a few mechanical bits and ends as well as a violet crystal, perhaps components of a lightsabre. A pouch tied to one corner was suspended in mid-air, barely visible unless one looked for it. And in the middle, resting between the other unassuming, haphazardly-tossed in pieces, was a dark, cold, weathered silver hilt, twin lengths of violet-copperish connotations running about the metallic weapon, its offensive end lain with complimenting twin curved spikes. Looking at her reaction, Carella knew now of what fear her little friend fought.

"Here," Carella said, kneeling down to gather her belongings. She reached into the pouch and undid the string, pulling out a hand bracer lined in black silk, with a small metal readout attached for the forearm. She put it on, then emptied the compartment, save the two papers she had no use for.

Elianne stepped back instinctively, seemingly trying to pull herself as far away from Carella as possible without physically moving. Carella looked at her, feeling estranged, but also slightly frustrated.

"What? You don't like it?" she asked, packing the pieces about her belt and pockets, but leaving the lightsabre carefully pointed away from them in one hand. Still kneeling, her upright knee took a small step towards Elianne.

Elianne stepped back with one foot, and didn't reply.

"Come on, I'm not going to hurt you," Carella pressed. "It's safe, Elianne." A sudden thought crossed her mind, and Carella smiled reassuringly. "Here, I'll show you-"

Over her knee, raised just above the empty compartment, the blade's stark, suffused energy burst to life. Elianne felt her heart leap, then cry out in pain. The lightsabre's vibrant, enticing red glow beamed in front of her, swathing most of Carella's face in a dominant, orangish-red glare, a mask of defiance; Elianne screamed and ran, heading to the closed door to beat out her troubles in terrified helplessness.

"Wh-" Carella called, rising to stand; though she never made it that far. Her consciousness abandoned her without warning, as the pulsing lightsabre fell from her loose fingertips. She fell on her arms beside the compartment (now cloven in two as the weapon fell just outside her arm's reach), lost in dark, thoughtless depression.


Their blades crackled into life in front of them. In what seemed like a graceful stride forward Zaithla'in pressed the attack, her crimson sabre falling forward with keen, agile equilibrium. Varon swivelled his wrists clockwise, winding his blade around into a formidable parry, while arcing his back in compensation of balance. If Zaithla'in's initial charge had seemed effortless, however, her counter-attack danced beyond parallel, hands writhing to life, cooly accurate at inhuman speeds in inhuman angles. Varon was forced on the defensive with tense, rigid difficulty, incapable, weighing the risks, of reversing the tide.

The spite of Zaithla'in's deft advances bore deep into Varon's resolve almost immediately, himself losing ground at odd intervals. Varon did not doubt Zaithla'in's upper hand lay purely in her skill, but almost cursed at how at ease she must feel in her own perfect training ground. He hadn't imagined what struck him now as an unforgivable mistake on his part: he had played right into her trap; but he had expected men, not this. Her black figure in the gothic, dark room dealt tricks to his senses. He had no environmental advantage, or variable, to speak of.

For a moment Zaithla'in relented, side-stepping so as to put the starscape at her back. Varon brandished his sabre single-handedly, then attacked. Stepping back, Zaithla'in brought his advance forward to a broad angle, then thrust her blade at Varon's, parrying with doubled strength. Though it slowed Varon's strike down, she could not hold him, and had to duck back before it would have leveled through her head. Her eyes, glistening to the focused light of her sabre, never lost sight of his blade; but her lips, moments ago pursed in a lavish smile, had certainly changed colour since.

"That is my crystal, Jedi," Zaithla'in spat, as Varon made no effort to advance. Apparently, she thought that new crystal had something to do with his strength.

The Jedi's instinctive tension suddenly relaxed, though he did not loosen his stance. "Oh? I'm certainly glad you've noticed."

Zaithla'in's eyes again locked onto his, interrogating what secrets he had left inside of him; Varon stared at her intimidating, intense red-tinted eyes impassionately, and darted his lightsabre forward.

"You cannot win," he said between breaths, exchanging and prying for contested momentum at every retaliation. "What's left of your men won't be here to save you this time."

Zaithla'in cackled, bashed his blade aside and raced forward with near-perfect, graceful balance. "Then arrogance will be your undoing, Jedi." Her cold lips glistened with shallow hubris. "Ha! If I thought you'd be my match, you would not have found me alone. You already forfeited your life in finding me... I do not feel like offering my mercy to a coward... one who corrupts expendable apprentices. Though, perhaps... tracing your ship back to some hidden Jedi base would prove much more entertaining."

Varon bared his teeth and bashed her blade to one far side, leaving her chest unprotected. Zaithla'in's opposite foot knocked him to the floor before he could take advantage; unrelenting, she boxed him into a backwards roll on the ground, the edge of her lightsabre charring the floor where he had just been as she followed.

Varon rolled away from another blow, then managed to get one knee up and block her head-on – though barely parrying the counterstrike. Zaithla'in lashed out with her foot, though this time he dodged it in time, regaining his footing before she could pursue.

Again, their blades met between them. Varon tested his luck, swerving around Zaithla'in's counter and pressing forward, searching for a weakness in her form. Zaithla'in reversed her grip, parrying Varon's blade short inches from her torso; then batted it away, twirled her hold of her lightsabre in the off-hand and came down with a backwards-hold. Varon gave up ground, attentive to her altered style before he vied for initiative once more.

In the darkness about him, the change in her handling, and thus technique, pitted Varon at the brink of his limits, barely able to keep up with Zaithla'in's flurry. He thought it blind luck that Zaithla'in had not pressed home her advantage, perhaps pretending not to know that he could not afford another lost inch between her closely-parried strikes and his breast. From what he could tell, she must still be figuring him out, though every parry and subsequent backstep brought him closer to the wall behind him. The starscape lay to his right, illuminating very little if anything of Zaithla'in's lithe, delicate figure. They were nearing the wall; Varon changed pace, turning aside a few strikes, only to find she had an even stronger backhand counter aimed precisely at his lower flank. A seditious grin burst from her supple lips and she took the hilt of her sabre in both hands, leaping forward.

Steadfastly planting a foot on the wall behind him, Varon leveled his blade and pushed forward with all his might, entangling the lightsabres into a deadlock before repelling the staggered Sith Lord back a few paces. Caught off guard, Zaithla'in lowered her blade to one side and raised her hand; Varon threw his lightsabre at her before she could concentrate. Zaithla'in surged backwards in a Force-guided flip across half the room, landing down on almost the other side. Willing his weapon back into his hand, Varon took a step forward, breathed deeply, and passively stared her down.

Suddenly, the artificial lights flashed on, almost blinding the two for an instant. Varon put a hand above his brow and squinted, finding it harder to see with the lights on than the darkness he had just adjusted his eyes to. A door on the left, different from the one Varon had used to enter, abruptly slid open.

Coming from a full sprint, to nearly slipping backwards on the smooth, diligently washed steel flooring, an awestruck Kay'l, twin pistols in his hands, found himself unsure of what to do.

The sight of drawn lightsabres once this day had already been more than an unsightly and unwelcome surprise; but the sight of his employer and commandeerant facing off as two rival Jedi brought the tinge of bile to his stomach.

Both pairs of eyes froze on Kay'l, neither combatant willing to move. The Sith and Jedi stood at opposite ends, and neither could call themselves Kay'l's enemy. Or true ally for that matter. For a brief, endearing moment, time passed, and no one moved.

Zaithla'in leapt forward. Varon twisted to one side and caught her strike with ease, calmly returning to what seemed like a rehearsed parley, neither daring expend all their concentration on the other when a third, compensating party lingered. Zaithla'in particularly slowed down measurably, though Varon looked less than enthusiastic to press through the tide.

The display before Kay'l captured a sight more frightening than his eyes had ever seen. His hair on the back of his spine stiffened to the point where the front of his shirt might have moved back a quarter-inch. Suddenly, his life flashed before him, no more than a greyish shard in the clouded background of the scene lain before him, the scene his eyes were never meant to bear. He felt his heart rush, his mind clearen, and his eyes fade to a starry black impurity. The sights all his life had ever seen did not match up to the vibrant zest he saw coursing through his patron and accomplice, in one pure, intense frame.

And at that moment, Kay'l knew, his future, as well as his past, would never again be the same.

Zaithla'in's eyes coursed with fury, burdening Varon's conscience with every tempting pause in her advance. The green and red glares of both sabres sparkled over her black, moist Twi'lek features, revealing an almost unnatural beauty. She fought relentlessly, conquering fresh ground as near to Varon's resolve as she could reach, before the Jedi would again tear back her defences and pensively retaliate. There was no coarse air about either of their stances; nothing seemed as it should not be. Yet Varon and Zaithla'in were not struggling to defeat one another: their battle, to its end, was towards Kay'l.

"Release that anger, child," pled Zaithla'in, diving sidewards to cover ground after Varon quickly side-stepped a thrust the moment earlier. Her face lavished an endearing confidence which Varon fought hard to diffuse. He worked left of and above her strikes, tightening his grip towards Zaithla'in's strong points of attack. He already knew this battle would not be won over skill alone; as she did, slowing her successive thrusts, aiming with refined accuracy with the hope of incapacitating his blade arm.

Varon parried the strikes, then kicked at her shin, backing away. Brandishing the sabre far in front of him, his off-hand settled into place just by his hips. His blade darted swiftly behind him, singing a metallic fable through the back of his ears, and warming his heart. The ion-charged blade would have singed the ends of his hair had it been one strand closer.

Zaithla'in set her blade by her side, paying close heed of her enemy's honed clarity, but flexing her muscles in indemnity. Her eyes narrowed, carefully watching him. Breathing deeply, she waited for him.

Varon's shoulders leveled; his momentum swayed. Pinpointing and bracing his balance, he shot one foot to the left, then darted forward with the edge of his lightsabre, staggering his angles and strides as unnaturally as wildfire. The clash of blades rose dramatically, in dynamics, passion, and tempo.

Finally Zaithla'in conceded, spun her blade against his and jumped back. Her hand shot out, tautening as if surreally clutching his entire body. Varon felt a breath of wind pass by him, then a push backwards. His lightsabre flicked off and fell away from him, though he was only forced a few steps backwards before he regained control. The corners of Zaithla'in's lips beamed sadistically; her right hand raised to the ceiling, her left holding her lightsabre outwards at waist-level. A compartment in the middle of the ceiling unfolded, releasing three weapons droids to hover down behind the Sith Lord. And all three were entirely black, save a few silver-edged ridges connecting the various metal body components and a violet opal globe three centimetres wide. From her impression, Varon guessed, they were likely decked out with weapons systems.

Kay'l gasped inaudibly, but did not hesitate. Varon had given him one impending stare as warning; that was enough. His pistols were raised, eyes leveled, targeting lights meting the first combat droid ion-charged blaster rounds before its weapon systems had warmed up.

Varon called for his lightsabre anxiously, its cold metal grasp reaching his hand just as the first charges strafed the air behind him, as he rolled dexterously to one side. His blade felt like swift revelation to his hands, working as deftly as an outreach of his will.

The two droids split up, darting to either side of the room while Zaithla'in stood in the middle, switching her blade off. One followed Kay'l, rerouting fire and aiming at the entrance. Instinctively, Kay'l hid tightly against the side wall, with barely a half metre of protection. A fully-armed droid like these could be as swift and deadly as any assassin, he knew by experience, rolling back in the open at one of its timed intervals between rounds. He only dared take two shots in the open; one hit its portside blaster, shaking the droid more than damaging it. Kay'l aimed with one pistol as it wound around his corner, leaving him no cover. The shot impacted dead on, nearly scorching its targeting sensor. Ducking, then lunging to the other side of the entranceway, Kay'l let the triggers fly, rending a fireworks of sparks and blaster marks upon the droid as it backed off, weapon systems still firing to the last.

Varon approached him just after, gesturing hurriedly. "Let's get going! She went up this air shaft."

Kay'l duly scratched his head, unsure of what happened. Zaithla'in was nowhere to be seen, and the shaft Varon pointed to was the one the droids had come out of. "Hold on. You mean you want to follow her?"

"Do you think there's another reason why I wanted to come here?" Varon refuted, unconsciously having that air of working things out in the back of his mind while he spoke. "This must lead somewhere... – a mechanics' hangar – somewhere."

"Wait," Kay'l said, still wondering. "Hold on a moment. Why didn't those droids have shield systems?"

Varon didn't pay the question much attention, answering absentmindedly. "Practice droids. They weren't made for direct combat; more for Jedi training. This shaft must lead to their holding cells – ah, she had this all planned!"

"What are you going on about – all planned? Like this was some sort of idea of hers?"

Varon did not look away from the vertical shaft, trying to find some way of getting on to it. Perhaps she had kept a rope there, or chord, and had since raised it. Contemplatively, he turned back to Kay'l. Even if he did find a way into it, there was no way he could lift Kay'l up in time.

"Kay'l, you better get out of here," he said grimly. "Get back to the ship – your ship – and take them out of here. I'll follow you shortly."

"What? That's what I get for saving your hide?" Kay'l interjected. Finally one with his weapons again, the fear had seemingly flown out of him.

Varon looked solemn. "Look, there's nothing else you can do out here – I mean, it'll be hard enough for me to–"

The click of unlocking door mechanisms reverberated through Varon and Kay'l's mind at that instant. Kay'l's heart filled with dread as the remaining two doors to the practice chamber slid open, revealing rows of silver-plated Sith troopers lining their only means of exit.

Save that shaft, Varon noted.

Kay'l's blasters were up in a flash, wreaking havoc on the tightly-knit troopers as they moved into position. There was at least a score at either side of the room, too many for either of them to handle. Varon's lightsabre sparked to life in front of him, deflecting the first shots attentively. But soon there were too many for him to redirect at his enemies. Kay'l stood right behind Varon, judging almost on impulse that it was the safest (and only) place to be. Despite his mind being in frantic, utter disarray, Kay'l's fingers, at least, did not need prompting.

Varon stayed silent for a while, watching with hawk's eyes the scores of Sith troopers taking aim by the doors; as far as they could stay away from them, he mused. Then he remembered his weapon.

"Kay'l, do you have any grenades on you?" he asked briskly.

"No," he replied between rounds, "One right now would sure be handy."

"There's one at my belt, the left side. Take out the right column, and I'll deal with the rest."

Filled with a sudden sense of relief, Kay'l did not hesitate. Unstrapping the single grenade from Varon's belt, he ran to the right, into open air, armed, and threw the device as perfectly as he could between the lines of troopers, then ducked into a barrel roll with pistols in hand. The explosion tore through his rigid nerves like a heavy blow to the chest, leaving him uncoordinated for an instant as he recovered.

Wasting no breath, Varon burst into a headlong sprint, his lightsabre nimbly commanding the way towards the far door. The explosion shook the Sith's ranks across the entire room. Stretching out his mind, Varon closed his eyes and concentrated, his features grimly reflecting the resolute, shimmering starscape behind him. Nearly an entire rank were swept from their feet, hammering into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway behind them by one fickle sleight of hand. Then Varon swept in.

Blaster fire discharged, flew in all corners of the hall in chaos, then soon came to an abrupt halt. Heads were severed, torsos cloven and arms dismembered into a silver-specked mess on the floor of the entranceway; though not a trace of blood could be seen, the lone trademark that each and every wound had been rendered by a lightsabre. Instinctively, Varon darted out the doorway, meeting the ones he had thrown out there one moment earlier.

Strenuously rising to stand, Kay'l fought hard to keep up, both with Varon and against his waning consciousness. He dropped both pistols in their holsters, and found the Jedi outside, looking about both sides of the hallway with his lightsabre already replaced at his belt, as if he expected no more trouble. Kay'l looked at him sternly, gauging him before taking a deep breath of exhaustion.

"Don't tell me you still want to find that Twi'lek friend of yours," Kay'l prodded, watching Varon's unbending features with a certain weary wonder.

Varon seemed to pass aside the comment, pausing at length and still not paying the scoundrel any heed. "It's too late for that. She seems to be out of our reach for now, though don't think that will last for long." He paused again, as if suddenly pondering some newfound revelation. "I do not sense her presence..."

He turned to Kay'l, the folds of his dark robes twisting about his waist to a more attuned complexion. "This ship must be destroyed. Now, I'm sure there'll be enough explosives in the hangar bay to take this ship out of commission for at least while, but I'll head for the hyperdrive before making my way out of here. Get that ship of yours online and ready to fly, and I'll see you on board," he ordered, turning down the corridor and breaking into a full-out sprint.

Squinting through tired eyes, Kay'l saw Varon's robed form quickly disappear down the hall before he so much as had a chance to respond. "It's already pretty much prepped to go," he called back, though he knew it would be of no use. He was left with himself and the elevator terminals right behind him, and could only hope he'd seen the last of the Valin Harvester's crew men outside Zaithla'in's control room.


Kay'l managed to make two delicate strides into the anteceding hallway before the hangar port, gingerly avoiding the splayed limbs and other corpse remnants of Varon's handiwork, before his blaster pistols flew from their holsters with deftly, trepid reflexes, targeting sensors leveling on two hunched-over figures nearing a curve in the hallway ahead, one considerably smaller than the other. The lights followed both until they nearly passed out of sight; Kay'l's arms, head and steady stance froze, as a grim, rigid concentration permeated through his conscience.

"Freeze!" he yelled, almost screamed to Carella and Elianne's ears; duly, the two stopped in their tracks.

Slowly, Carella turned her upper body to look back, and spied the barrels of Kay'l's two antagonistic blasters leveled at her and Elianne's torsos. Darting open instinctively, her right hand slid free from her side. The scene had already woven its course inside her mind: two steps backwards, and the ring of unclipped metal as her lightsabre flew from her belt, and the meagre pilot would be little more than a flickering nuance forgotten amongst her carefree memory. The dark zest of a humming ion blade in her hands once more centred inside her brutal conscience as a thought that could not be cast aside. The energy, the power. It was hers: her right, her legacy, driven to a level where nothing could divert her mind from that fact.

Breaking out of her trance, Carella felt Elianne squeeze her arm. Her concentration nulled by the uncomfortable shock, her mind fell into a myriad of other conclusions and their subsequent frustrations, nearly forgetting Kay'l entirely. Elianne, why are you doing this? Blast it!- why are you even here?

Kay'l felt a familiar twitch behind his neck, and shuddered. Slowly, he dropped his weapons to his side, and gradually forced his mind to recognize the two. At length, he stepped forward.

Carella stepped back, away from him, and put a hand to her forehead. Elianne looked at Kay'l contemplatively, staring up at his smooth face, full of energy and mid-youthful complacency. Looking back down at her, Kay'l glanced at Carella, but otherwise paid her no heed.

"Well, where've y-" Kay'l started, but didn't finish. "Ah, it'll have to wait anyways. Let's get going."

The shy figure of Elianne flashed before Carella the moment she blinked her eyelids, feeling as light as a feather for an instant before glimpsing at Kay'l's resilient, but open features. He gestured for her to go forward. Elianne stared into Carella's marbled eyes anxiously, though patiently, as if waiting for something.

The fabric of Carella's undershirt rubbed against her triceps when she started walking, a strange feeling she only now noticed that prickled her vague conscience into coercive, painful musings. Absentmindedly, she watched the dead bodies littering the floor under her feet every now and then, and felt... alone. It was the first time such a thought had come to her for what seemed like an eternity. Where... how... in some way, mattered. But Carella could not answer these thoughts, and neither could her fond mutual allies. Zaithla'in was lost to her, and in whatever way such a bond had developed between them, so was the one person with the keys to her heart. It did not matter if it was better this way, or what malign influence those keys had been, only that they were lost. And now, she felt, her heart was lost in suit.

Kay'l punched in the entrance codes into the locking panel, bypassing an 'error code' the screen had read only a moment before: a certain trick he'd learned to keep host guards from wontingly 'browsing' his inventory. The smooth, thick durasteel airlock doors splintered open, letting the three move through into the first of two airlock doors as it sealed behind them. Pressure readjusted, albeit slightly, as the second door opened some few seconds later. Gesturing the others to a branch of seats, Kay'l confidently strode through the main room into the cockpit, taking a seat beside A5, still on standby, as he prepared the coordinates and system procedures. Resignedly, he took one look at his cup holder, then leaned back and reached for an overhead panel display.

"Tough crowd," he whispered to A5, assuming it still turned online. Despite his thrill in a few newfound, unlikely allies whom he'd never have wanted to meet the stares of only an hour ago, so little had been said between them that he began to have second thoughts. That girl was something else, he knew, but he could not help feeling left out of a loop somewhere.

Regardless, he thought, "This is gonna be a long trip, wherever we head."