All previous disclaimers apply.

Chapter 4. Against All Odds

The darkness…

There was something familiar lingering within it.

...The grey eyes – those eyes of steel observe me.

No. Not just eyes…

Now I see that the eyes are framed with a face of a woman. She is young, yet almost a girl; maybe barely over twenty of age. Her hair is the color of auburn. Hanging partly loose and wild strands covering her face, they are mocking the elegant coiffure which used to hold them.

Just finish me off, Jedi, if that is what you came to do! Do not scoff me with your stare. Your so-called victory - your fraud - shall be hollow!

Her delicate features are covered with sweat and ash. She looks tired and…a bit lost; uncertainty and heavy sadness dwelling deep in her eyes... Finally, her lips tighten to form a thin line of determination, and she leans over me…

I cannot move. I cannot speak. I cannot breathe. My mouth is filled with my own blood. The final darkness is coming – soon – I know. So this is how Death feels like.

I am falling into an abyss. Void.

I have failed, truly failed. For everything I have fought for - everything I have sacrificed for – will be lost.

And I despise her for seeing me like this – immobile, weak, dying – like a crushed insect. I want to hate her.

But…

I feel her compassion. It is a hundred seas flooding over the barren desert of my mind. I can feel her reaching out to me, grabbing me, lifting me…

Why?!

Bastila Shan!

I jerked upright to a sitting position as if electrocuted, inhaling my lungs full of air with a single long heave. The surroundings were dark, foggy; my eyes were still having trouble adjusting to the dim lighting. The location was very much unfamiliar, I could perceive. Under me, beneath my body, was something with a hint of softness. A bed?

They will get NOTHING from me…

It was the final thought lingering in my dream; the ultimate statement yet pounding in the interiors of my head. I sent my hand to my waist, trying to get a hold of my blaster…or any weapon. My heart skipped a beat when my fingers grasped cool thin air - meeting only emptiness where my pistol should have been hanging. A river of thoughts raced through my mind.

My weapons… Gone. Am I captured? A prisoner?

A single flash of rage coursed through my veins and my teeth clenched together. The last occurrence I could recollect was the putrid stench of betrayal and my life fleeting my mangled body before the eyes of an enemy. The grim feeling of the utmost loss was forming a tight knot around my interiors; the acknowledgment of having being deprived of something which held much greater significance than a mere defeat in a single battle.

The absolute knowledge of seeing your plans crack and shatter to the tiniest of pieces, blown away by the coldest of winds.

Everything I have sacrificed for will now burn to ashes. For I have failed…

And the awareness of being forced to lose even much more - my life at the mercy of someone not carrying parallel intentions. I only barely noticed the tiny growl leaving my lips.

I will not submit. I will not surrender…

I glanced around in furious sweeps, trying to figure out my surroundings. My eyes were starting to get accustomed to being open again as the hazy blurriness was sharpening into a form of a run-down room. I could distinguish a couple of beds, a dingy table… not much else there in this dark, wall-restricted square. And there, on the side of the room, was… movement, when a lone figure rose to its full height, emerging as a shape of a man.

Instinctively, I tensed my muscles to defend myself – ready to strike even with my bare hands should the need arise.

But there was none of such. The reality hit me - banishing any rage and thoughts of imprisonment - as my brains linked the face of the man to a very familiar name. Onasi. The adrenaline leaving my body, my heart rate started to sink down to calmer levels, and my rapid-turned breathing slowed down.

The memories of recent turns of events started to click into their places in my mind. The battle aboard the Endar Spire. The Sith. The escape pod which had ended its frenzied whirl by crashing onto the surface of the planet, taking constructs in its wake and creating an endless amount of shrapnel. It was around there where the holofilm of my memories finished broadcasting the show, leaving only blackness in its stead.

I let go of the tension in my body. Whatever mixed feelings had overwhelmed my mind after the awakening, those were now gone.

Yet, I felt hollow... I shook my head.

Try to focus.

The tall dark-haired man with a strong build and a posture of a soldier, clad in his orange-brown Republic armor, made his way towards my bed calmly. I locked my gaze to the bearded features and dark brown eyes. Carrying probably closer to ten years of age over mine and likely twenty times more experience at warfare, Commander Onasi was a welcome sight.

"Carth Onasi," I stated, my voice slightly cracking due to the lack of saliva in my mouth. I directed a nod towards the goatee-bearded man's features, signaling that I had acknowledged his presence.

Good to see a familiar face.

"Good to see you awake instead of thrashing around in your sleep," Commander Onasi stated calmly, locking his sharp eyes to mine while pushing a cup filled with water into my hand. I thankfully accepted and gulped the entire fillings of the container down my throat. By the bloody Force, that felt good.

The feeling inside my mouth had been something one could compare to the situation if one half of the friggin Tatooine desert had been dumped in there for safe-keeping. The toll to some hectic fighting and far too many hours of hectic sleeping, I could presume. Dried up to the joints, my body literally pleaded for the precious liquids it had lost in the form of sweat.

For a single long second, I enjoyed the feeling of the new-found moistness inside my mouth. Up until the moment, when the entire room jerked and took a dancing turn around my head. I could only faintly hear the clank of the cup when it hit the floor, free from my loosened grip.

"Damn." I had to let my head drop down to rest my temples between my hands. The painful pounding inside my skull was in perfect sync with my heart rate; the steady angry hammering being an apparent protest from my tired brains to the far too speedy jolt upright. For a painfully long-spreading moment, I felt the room spinning around and fought the urge to vomit when a wave of nausea washed over my body. A sour taste appeared in my mouth.

Alarmed by my evident disorientation, Carth swiftly reacted by injecting a needle to my forearm and emptying the contents of the syringe into my bloodstream. No permissions asked.

"This'll ease the pain. You banged your head pretty hard when the pod crashed to the surface of Taris. We are at an abandoned apartment in the Upper City and safe for the moment… if you can call it that," Carth explained steadily.

As a silent reply, I lifted my hand to my occipital. That area appeared to be the primary beacon of my headache. I probed carefully and grimaced when my fingers found swollen, sore flesh and the rough surface of a fresh scab hidden beneath my hair.

Bloody great.

For sure, the situation had begun to appear nothing but familiar. In a very bizarre, twisted, cynical sort of way. I seemed to have started to make a habit out of hitting my head and waking up in an unfamiliar environment with fresh holes left in my memories.

A couple more of these 'awakenings' and I don't have enough brain cells left to know which boot belongs to which leg. The Force has to have a sense of humor – whatever Zaza says…

But that was the least of my worries. The situation did not have the echo of the word 'promising' emanating from it – this I could detect even without knowing further details.

Taris - so that's where we were. A planet, on which I had never set my foot before this exact date, but which was at least somewhat familiar due to the short but informative discussions with Sandra. The planet, whose entire surface was covered by a single gigantic city. The planet, which was one of the successful conquests of the advancing Sith fleets of Darth Revan and Malak; one of the freshest wounds to the Republic flesh.

Yes – I definitely could not pick out the word 'promising' anywhere.

To sum it up, we were a couple of stranded Republic soldiers somewhere deep in the Sith space, on a Sith-controlled, Sith-swarming piece of rock.

An even more unsettling thought crossed my mind.

...Taris… That's where Sandra is from…

I took another glance around the room, trying to distinguish a hint of crimson hair or a feminine figure…and found it disturbingly empty.

"The Jedi. Did she make it?" I asked and continued with a couple of coughs, combined with the intention of clearing my throat. My voice was still coarse, raspy.

Could use a couple more glasses of water. Or maybe a small pond, to be exact.

"She's badly injured, but alive…I guess. At least she was the last time I saw her."

Slightly puzzled, I raised my eyebrows, and Carth continued.

"It felt like a small miracle that the first people I encountered were friends of the Republic - right after I had dragged you two out of the pod. We made it away before the Sith stormed the location. The Jedi is in the care of a doctor – a man named Zelka – whose practice is nearby. The doctor also agreed to show me this abandoned apartment we can use as a hideout," Carth explained with calm patience.

I nodded, slightly relieved. So Carth had managed to get the injured Jedi to the care of a doctor. And he had been able to go undetected and to find a somewhat secure place to hide while dragging around my presumably unconscious muscle and bones. I was at least a little bit of impressed. No wonder the man was one of the most decorated officers in the Republic fleet.

"I could use a thorough update on the situation right now," I stated. "Since the Endar Spire, I seem to be hitting a wall of emptiness in my head."

Now, that almost was a statement to laugh at.

I felt a slight shiver running through my muscles when another wave of squeamishness spread through my body and tried to force my interiors upside down. Luckily I hadn't eaten for a while, or I would have had the fantastic opportunity of studying the digested remnants of food from an all too close distance, I thought with mild sarcasm. But the painkiller Carth had injected was kicking in – fast – as the pounding inside my head was wearing off. It would not take long for me to get back on my feet. Slight nausea was only a small tease, nothing to lament about.

Without wincing, I kept my face expressionless and eyes locked to Onasi's, as the man continued the narration.

"I'm not surprised. You have been drifting in and out of consciousness for almost twenty hours. Zelka asked me to keep an eye on you because it wasn't possible for him to take you in. I understand that pretty well because the man's got his kolto tanks full of Republic soldiers on a Sith-infested planet. The man is taking a horrendous risk, but yet the backroom of his practice is stuffed with injured soldiers."

Only now did I notice the dark lines under Onasi's eyes. Probably the man hadn't had the chance to rest his eyelids even for a mere second while I had been out. The weight of the fought battle was yet pulling his shoulders heavily down. Looking at the small wrinkles crossing his features and the bags under his eyes, the man had gained ten years to his age at the Endar Spire and during the following sleepless hours.

Not to mention the mental impact of the obliteration of his ship, the destruction of his crew; deaths of his men. Showing no signs of an emotional breakdown, the man had pulled it well together – I had to admit.

However, I noted, for the Endar Spire… I felt nothing.

War comes with losses – you know this. The weaker in terms of tactics, morale or skill is the one to perish…

But shouldn't I feel even the slightest bit of sadness for them? They were also my crew. They were a Republic crew.

There is nothing new in entire ships – entire fleets – burning to nothingness. You have seen it before, and you will see it happening in the future. It is the toll of War. It is the sacrifice that must be made…

"I did some scouting while you were out…and the situation does not look bright," Onasi continued with a steady voice, efficiently cutting my thoughts away. "Seems the Sith established a blockade around Taris straight after the destruction of the Spire. Not to mention, the Leviathan herself is orbiting the planet. No ships go in or out. Down here, they've declared the martial law and are patrolling in wide numbers."

Carth paused, his brows furrowed. "I think it is evident why."

"Bastila Shan," I stated dryly, having ended up to the identical conclusion in my mind.

"Looks like that," Carth replied, his comment accompanied by a short nod. "I think locating Bastila is the first priority. No more than because of the Republic war effort, I truly wish she is in good shape," he continued, his voice lowering down.

Bastila Shan, the Jedi commanding the so-called mystical skill of Battle Meditation. The Jedi ability, which enabled her to take control of the enemies' minds, to force them to lose their wills to fight. The woman who was, during these times, the supposed brightest hope of the Republic. Was this woman – almost a girl - so crucial to the Sith that they went through the effort of quarantining an entire planet to cut her escape routes away? Could any person – no matter which skills they held – be of such importance?

Apparently.

Bastila friggin Shan.

Suddenly, the blood circulating my veins turned ice cold. Bastila Shan – the woman from my dreams, the tormentor of my nights. I knew this now. I had felt this missing piece of the puzzle clicking to its rightful place.

Why was my subconsciousness broadcasting the features of a woman I remembered never to have met? Not even during the days aboard the Spire. Was she somehow related to my injuries all those months ago?

Knowing the reputation of the Jedi as peacekeepers and drivers of the highest purposes, the thoughts did not make sense. The Jedi were believed to be the saviors, not the villains. Their acts and accomplishments lifted them above ordinary sentient beings.

But… repeating the recording in my head of the months I had spent on Dantooine, something had been very much amiss in there. Was it how they had acted? Was it because of how they had treated me – more like a prisoner than a patient? Not like an injured common soldier who had been tossed into their care. But more… More like a caged wild beast with claws and fangs. A predator prowling, waiting for an opportunity to lunge into an attack…to taste their blood.

Even during that time, even while being fed with their ideology, I had felt the urge to question their motives.

I had no quarrel with the Jedi – at least I did not recollect of having such. But during the course of those months - due to the atmosphere of mutual suspicions dwelling in the Enclave - there had been moments when I had desired the whole Jedi order to be sent to the deepest of all Hells.

Nonetheless, I knew I had to find Bastila. Not because of the Republic; not because of the war. My reasons were located in a much more personal level. I had to either see her face or her corpse with my bare eyes to find a resolution to a question I was yet forming in my mind. She was a key to the answer – she had to be.

Or.

Or I was losing my faltering grasp on the reality; my sanity was fading. It was the cynical option which had crossed my mind more than once when the nightmares aboard the Spire had tirelessly and cruelly continued.

Hell - that was the most plausible reason. I was becoming kriffin' insane.

But if there was even the slightest chance that Bastila was holding the keys to some kind of an answer, I would be there to take them from her. No… I needed to be there.

"Do you have any hints about her whereabouts?" I asked. "If the Sith are after her, it is probable that she is still on the loose. We can presume that as long as the planet is under quarantine."

Or her corpse has not been found yet… I killed the gloomy train of thought immediately. Somehow, a part of me screamed that she was alive with the same certainty as I was breathing during this very moment.

"You're probably right. I suspect Bastila's escape pod crashed to the Undercity - under this very same area. According to street rumors, the majority of the escape pods fell there." Carth paused, and his features turned into a mask of stone. "Though, in addition to us, I do not know others who were lucky. The soldiers… The patients at Zelka's practice are more or less waiting for their deaths… I try to believe because Bastila has a strong command over the Force, she might have had survived. Just like we did."

"I take it we shouldn't be too optimistic about getting reinforcements," I commented, collecting the fragments of information to my mind. It would most certainly get interesting trying to locate a Jedi's whereabouts somewhere in the middle of a horde of enemy forces. Not to mention the upcoming attempt of escaping through the blockade of enemy ships, accompanied with a Jedi the Sith were so frantically trying to hunt down.

Things are about to get interesting, indeed.

"We're on our own," Carth replied with a slight smile which showed no signs of happiness.

"Twenty hours give things plenty of time to proceed so I should get moving," I stated and forced my body up to my feet, cursing the wasted time deep inside my mind.

Each spent hour was an hour lost. Each hour was an hour closer to the moment of the Sith catching Bastila. If not injured, the Jedi probably could manage fairly well even if she was on her own. But considering the rumored poor successes of the other crash landings, odds definitely were not on her side.

The headache was gone, and despite the slight dizziness during the first few seconds on my feet, I found myself quite set for action... Unless a pack of rabid rakghouls was the first hostiles to come around the corner. And this was the longest time I could spare for my body to recover, so it needed - dammit - just to humbly adjust to the situation.

"I suggest that we take turns and you try to get some rest now," I told Carth who was observing me with a raised eyebrow. Noting the change in the older soldier's demeanor, something was clearly puzzling the older man. "I'll try to dig out some information about the escape pods. But first I'd like to exchange a few words with this doctor-friend of ours you mentioned."

I needed to see how Sandra was doing. The Tarisian Jedi was probably the closest thing to a tactical advantage I could think of in the current situation. And, on the other hand, I was not overjoyed of the fact that the Jedi was in the care of some doctor who had just happened to stumble on the crash site at the right moment. Not before I had met the man myself. Either it had been – like Carth had mentioned – a small miracle. Or there was something else hiding underneath. But judging Onasi's reputation as a top-class soldier, for the moment, I was placing my bets on the first option.

Allies were rare in a situation like this. This Zelka-card was definitely worth turning. If there was an opportunity of getting extra pieces of information with the help of this doctor, I was sure to bite in.

Carth considered, weighting me up with his eyes.

"Alright," he replied slowly, reluctantly accepting the fact that his exhausted body was closing its limits. "But be careful. There's a swarm of Sith out there. I heard rumors of even Dark Jedi being spotted on the planet. Although I don't believe looking for a couple of common soldiers like us is high on the Sith's list of priorities, keeping a low profile does not make harm."

"I am used to moving without being noticed," I assured the man with confidence. It was not an exaggeration but the truth.

"I'll bet on that," Carth stated and I could see his glare intensifying. "I read your file, Daraz. I want to know the people I work with. I thought we were getting more like a linguistics specialist, but the actions you showed during the battle aboard the Spire were rather…noteworthy." I could sense the sudden change in his demeanor; the certain degree of coolness spreading to his voice.

I observed the man, noting the cocktail of emotions – the incipient frown, the tightening of his lips - cross his face under my eyes. I had no access to my files aboard the Spire, nor did I know what expressions the command had used to sum up my abilities. To be exact, the blasted record had not even aroused my curiosity.

"Then… I suppose I do not have to enlighten you about my skills, Commander," I replied calmly without the intention of hiding the mild sarcasm in my voice and let a slight smile spread to my lips.

I had easily sensed the shrouded suspicion hidden beneath his words. After all, he had a leaking ship and presumably an infiltrator on the loose – two issues most certainly not related to my persona.

"There are just… just some issues that do not add up," Carth stated quietly, but his voice lacking the strongest steel. He was unsure if to push the topic. Onasi apparently did not think highly of my kind in the first place and was desperate to gain a resolution to the incident which had led to the destruction of his ship. His words were bold, to hint his suspicions in circumstances like this. However, although a result of honesty, courage did not always fit in the same space with intelligence.

I shrugged, uninterested. If Onasi wanted an explanation on the occurrences aboard the Spire, I was not able to give these to him. Nor did I hold the motivation of explaining the ways I acted or the previous ways of making my living. Not now, not at this particular moment when I had more urgent issues in my mind and the agitation of getting on the move again tickling my feet.

If the man was after a declaration of loyalty towards the Republic in order to quieten down his distrust, he would have to wait for the stars to dim. Because those words would never leave my lips. I would perform my duty as a soldier of Republic, but I would not plead for permission I did not consider myself needing.

Nonchalantly, I turned my focus to a more concrete issue. A matter of a far more important kind.

I eyed the standard-issue Republic armors which covered both Carth's frame and mine and discarded the topic in favor of another one.

"Speaking of a 'low profile'… We might have a minor problem regarding the local dress code."

The first step was to strip the armor of its insignia, but yet looming in its bright colors, it was still emanating too much 'For the Republic' for much of my distaste. Anyone who had two brain cells to rub together would link the armor to its origins. In turn, facing Taris without the cover of the armor was probably almost as suicidal – if I had any expectations over the areas my route would eventually cross.

"I could use some paint," I muttered dryly, not exactly enthusiastic about either of the possible options. Wisely, the Commander had dropped the previous issue while observing me restyling my armor.

"Paint we don't have, but Zelka left me his robe," Carth responded and tossed a brown bundle of cloth to my hands.

This will do…

The robe was slightly short, revealing a hand's width of my shirt under its sleeve. But otherwise, it adequately covered the Republic armor. I raised the hood to shade my features while observing my reflection with an analytic eye on the dusty mirror located inside the 'fresher of the apartment.

"Add a lightsaber, and I look like a friggin Jedi," I muttered.

Somewhere in the adjacent room, Carth uttered a muffled bark of laughter. I could sense the spike of tension in the atmosphere was losing its sharp edge. For the moment.

Carth had placed my weapons inside an equipment bag under a bed, along with Sandra and the Dark Jedi's lightsabers. Absentmindedly, I ran my fingers along the surface of one sleek cylinder before lifting my vibroblade from the bag.

Wise for him to keep these Jedi weapons hidden. Might raise too many questions in case we get uninvited visitors...

"A lightsaber is not an ordinary soldier's weapon, Daraz." Sandra's words, uttered aboard the Spire, echoed in my mind as if she had been standing right next to me. I shrugged at the memory and gave the Jedi saber one last sharp glance. I would not need a weapon I had no knowledge of using. Even the option of selling the blasted thing was too risky to consider.

It was more than certain that money – or rather the lack of resources – could cause problems. Our combined belongings exceeded only a few hundred credits. Not much to go with. Not much for new armors which were set high on the list of our collective needs.

Now that 'extra weight load' I discarded aboard the Spire would come to use... But no point in dwelling on decisions already made; acts I could not affect afterward. Future had the tendency of being hard to predict. But a city like Taris was sure to offer opportunities for gaining easy credits. If one knew where to look.

Listening to Carth sum up his observations and possible locations of interest, I strapped the blade and the blaster to my belt while plotting the next courses of action in my mind. Feeling the combined weight of the weapons on my waist, it was like an amputated limb had been reattached to my body. Now I was in my own environment. I was the young cat who had found its nails for the first time.

"Feel free to shoot everyone who steps inside without knocking. I'll return at dawn," I said, with a smirk on my face when stepping out of the apartment door.

"Bring some food, while you're at it," Carth tossed back somewhere behind me.

The door opened to show a quiet hallway which traveled a full circle inside the round apartment complex. Only the soft beeps of a cleaning droid performing its tasks were coloring the still air. The outer wall of the round hallway was lined with durasteel doors. One of them was going to lead to the Upper City of Taris.

The ecumenopolis - formed of four levels of cities on top of each other and an equal amount of levels of strict societal separation - was famous of its sky-scraping cylindrical buildings which were constructed of an innumerable amount of identical floors. When you had seen one Tarisian apartment building, you had seen them all.

Cannot blame the architects for having too much imagination here…

My progression through the hallway took an unintended stop in front of a particular closed door. Something had grabbed my interest, but I could not quite point out the source. I studied the door. Nothing conspicuous about it. But…

It was more of an emotion… a quiet plea… a tender, encouraging pull towards the door.

Damn. My mind is playing tricks on me again.

I killed the feeling before the urge to open the door was scorched too powerfully into my mind and forced my feet back to moving.

And the door had the appearance of being very much locked.

Should I start to pursue the career of a burglar because of a some… some kriffin' brain dysfunction?

The thought made me grimace. If something was going on inside my mind, I did not find myself enjoying it the slightest.

When the Upper City of Taris finally opened before my eyes, I let my eyes rest in the scenery for a short moment and pulled my lungs full of cool air. It was tinted with a touch of electricity. Like all large cities, Taris was life; Taris never slept. Even now, when the planet was spinning towards its evening, streams of traffic were snaking between the round-topped skyscrapers. The streets - dotted with wanderers - were far from dead. All the life around me and filling my senses, yet seasoned with a shadow of a looming threat, felt refreshing.

It felt familiar. I found myself observing Taris, and it was not with the eyes of a fresh visitor. But someone, who knew his way around the city.

Taris, the multiple layers of cities laid on top of each other, was life. Somewhere beneath my feet – possibly either in the criminal-controlled, rotten Lower City or in the mutant-infested Undercity – was a particular Jedi woman who had somehow become the primary focus of my determination. The main driver of my steps. I did not know her. Nor did I even know for sure, if she was an ally…

But yet, I felt myself being pulled towards her. The urge was not accompanied with loyalty towards the Republic. Nor it was hallowed with a hope of turning the tide of the war. It was only plain ruthless determination in its purest form.

However, how refreshing the life around me felt, it came as a prerequisite for the existence of death. The war was death.

I threw a silent curse towards the sky, directed at the other one who was aiming towards the same target. Towards reaching her.

Somewhere above the skies of Taris - so illuminated by the lights of the city that even the stars were hidden – was an entire fleet of Sith warships and Darth Malak himself commanding the mighty Interdictor-class destroyer, the Leviathan. With the Sith, came the war.

The war was a part of the path I had found myself traveling. But no longer was I able to see it in the exact way determined by my insignia: an Ensign of the Republic Navy. There were too many inconsistencies discoloring my road. Too many unanswered questions simmering in the dark pool of my mind.

But during the pursuit for the truth, I could act the way I was expected to serve. I would raise a mask to cover my inner feelings and fight and bleed for the Republic, for the Jedi.

Until the time of answers would come.


A/N: Hopefully, you enjoyed the chapter. Yes, things definitely are getting a bit darker inside the pawn's mind.

And I also want to thank you all for the generous reviews! All feedback is truly appreciated. After all, it is the only and the best payment I get from doing this.