This is the end of Part One, and shall by the start of my break in writing this story.

CHAPTER SEVEN: The Escape

The group walked in a horizontal line across the connecting rooftops, Revan in the middle, Serik (dressed in a black coat, wearing a set of pointy gloves, tipped with needles and blades – the line between weapon and tool was blurred, especially in his case - and carrying a doctor's bag with a skull and crossbones on it's side; the obscure symbol was of an old faction of medical personnel on the planet – what it meant was - calling upon a seldom seen sight - in an age where there was hardly any need to deal with/cut open and enter the interior of one's body, as all healing and correction could be done with chemicals and regeneration boosters, or nanomites slipped in – they were willing to rip the flesh, ravage it, dig in deep, to bone, salvation by "any means necessary" – "we will rebuild you." if that what was called for; they would not stop or give up. To Serik it had a personal significance; he, particularly as a younger man, applied it to social issues - sometimes to solve a problem, one had to tear through all of civilization, in an orgy of gore.) and Mab on his sides, Carth (hand healed; where two fingers should have started, simply smooth stubs) and Mission on the outer edges, T3-M4 leading the way in excitement, constantly turning it's head back to look at them.

Serik was originally not suppose to come of course; his purported plan was to leave T3 with instructions and then at his house part ways with them – staying above to make sure the serum and cure got transferred to the members of AME, after which he would descend once again to the underworld, liquidating most of his property, this time permanently. At the manor however, he had what he claimed to be a sudden idea: – Revan doubted this and seemed quite irked - he would come with them to Coruscant, and attempt there to make presentations to those in power, preferably the representatives of the Chancellor, about the situation on Taris, using what he had obtained in the dome as demonstrations. - "Is this like last time; part of some scheme? Are you going to threaten us again?" - "No, you're done enough for me. This is merely a request. All I can offer is my expertise – it will be good to have someone making sure everything goes well in the shuttle." Revan eventually conceded, and Serik was very pleased – he told them before (as part of his argument) and after, in different words": "This is my once chance of getting the off Taris, to Coruscant"

They were taking the pathway, a lane of squares, to a launch pad – they had found a rocket ship that was due to go soon – an unmanned flight; it was suppose to reach one of the moons of the system and fall apart, releasing a satellite into orbit. It was the perfect craft to hijack – they shipped WM on – he had folded himself into a large rusty red square – as extra cargo, suddenly required, stored in the bottom of the vessel – and when it left the planet, T3 would hack the simple computers and redirect the course to a Republic fleet. There a small detachment would take them them to the inner planets - at which point they would be one hundred percent safe - where they could join up with a larger convey.

Inside the cramped quarters of the ship, they would bind themselves to the walls, and Serik would inject everyone with the serum, before turning the poison on himself – Revan still recommended they do so - have all transform – even though turning them all to rakghouls was not absolutely essential – not the number one reason for the quest and the procedure, and he had been distorting the truth in the beginning, as Mab had discovered – "Mix lies with facts, aye? That's the way to do it?" asked Mab. "Indeed" said Revan, turning to her and staring at her in defiant guiltlessness.

They rounded a corner and began another long stretch – Revan stiffened, stopping and shouted "NO!" He thrust his hands out - they were large enough that he hit everyone (who were all in front of him - at an angle, because they turned to look at him, trying to determine why he halted.) sending them flying forward. Mab spun around his large paw and clutched onto his arm "What's going on!" as he stared at her with wide eyes. He didn't have time to speak – the air filled with lasers, crisscrossing over him, going past, terminating at some further points, or ending inches away from his body – it was as if he was in a iron maiden, surrounding him tightly at all angles, filled with glass and metal - in a room of spiked walls, slowly constricting. Revan whispered under his breath "automated sniper rifles, rail guns, rockets, droids, turrets, placement grenades, even ray beams dammit – they can go through walls!"

"Who's doing this?"

"He wants it so in my current state, with the present abilities of mine that I have available, whatever I do will harm me grievously. Whatever step I take. The only way to trap me."

The area in front of Revan, superfluously filled with lines of red, began to fold open – like a set of hands, fingers between fingers, linked together, widening, until there was a fence of crimson inches away from his nose, and then an empty space - instead of small thin triangle in front, and lines projecting past his body – in addition to other groups of rays. In this newly created division a man with a jet pack landed, coming in from a great arc, a large bounce almost, out of the horizon. He turned, looking at Carth, who has standing close by, watching in worry, guns in hand. He pointed a leather (cutoff) gloved finger at the gunslinger, and a small rocket shot and fell close by, expanding into a rippling yellow shield., blocking him off. The bounty hunter then rotated and poked a large yellow orb, holographic, and the lasers shifted slightly, while in the distance Mab observed faint movement.

"This must have cost a fortune, Calo. Have you thought of the cost-benefit ratio.?" said Revan, trying to act blithe , and succeeding quite well – yet Mab still felt that it was put on. The man walked forward mutely, ignoring him. "Although of course anyone who hunts me obviously hasn't considered it full... as you can not buy anything when you're dead." Calo Nord continued on in silence, with the air of someone focusing intensely on more important things, a professional double checking, gaze flickering about – he then finally turned his eyes on the Jedi – they were mad and wide, burning with insanity and his movements, although confident and skilled, were belied by the character of his face: it was fragile and brittle, the twitching making it appear like it could break, or crumble into sobs at any second. It wasn't the twitch of nerves, anxiety - the ripples and jerks and blinks were the signs of someone put poorly together; someone who could fall apart at any second; someone cracked.

He had a long tangled beard, down to his chest, and wore a white loose cap, with hanging strands, held onto his head by the bands of his transparent goggles - over black and tan armor was a great coat of the Mandlorian Navy, blue with dusty brown shoulder pads and long armored pockets. From this belt - a bandolier, covered in thick metallic carriages, with holsters for two large silver pieces; multi- barreled revolvers - he pulled a set of hand cuffs – a pair of bulky squares linked together with a beam of energy. He held them out to Revan– a small opening appeared by the Jedi's stomach, for him to stick his limbs through.

"Whatever your plan is, Calo, you must understand it will inadvertently effect more then just me and you."

Calo gestured insistently, and Revan inserted his wrists into the clamps – Calo lead him forward slightly, the wall moving along with him - and then he pulled them back to his body, closely, protectively.

"The Exile is your enemy. Not me. She is the one who destroyed the Manalorions. If I hurt you, or angered you, you must understand it was to revenge... your race." Half way through, Revan began to talk with his eyes closed, to avoid Nord's hungry searching gaze – a strange gesture.

The lasers around Revan's face pulled back as Nord continued to listen intently, until only the red hot tips where on the side of his head, inches away form his hair. "I'm -" began Revan, but Calo Nord interrupted him, placing on hand on the man's cheek, a tear slipping down his face, muttering to himself. Mab blinked, confused at the odd turn this was taking, a little horrified, very uneasy ; it felt like anything could happen, anything could go wrong; they were at the mercy of a lunatic.

Revan's face twisted, an expression too complex to name with one emotion: shame, revulsion, disgust, embarrassment – Mab felt she could touch his mind again, and she was in contact with it as a deep thunderbolt of rage flashed through violently, almost instantly after Calo's touch – Revan only suffered it for a moment - when the swift fury , overriding everything else not only due to it's strength, but because it was composed, it contained melded together, all that came before it, hit he screamed a battle cry of inarticulate rage and ripped the cuffs apart, thrusting his hands into the air, and kicking Calo in the chest, knocking him over the side of the building - the lasers had briefly moved, been nudged along, by The Force, to allow this.

Immediately afterward they were enveloped in a whirlwind of heat, flame, laser, and rocket, attack in every direction – Revan grabbed her close to his body and he danced, flipping and turning, flinging himself forward and rotating in the air during the flight, constantly in motion. She could not see, as all around was red and yellow, a prison of fiery bars, and she often squeezed her eyes shut in terror, occasionally putting a foot or hand down to push in time with a unresistable command shot into her thoughts. She felt Revan consciously taking hits, and knew he was sacrificing himself not only for strategic purposes - he could not avoid everything without using his full potential- but to protect her, as she had not be wounded, as they spun and rolled. There was one final dive, and then a leap, and it was over; they tumbled across a hard surface, and came to a stop, Mab, rolling out of Revan's now loose arms.

She lay prone, breathing hard for a second, and then got up – they were three building's away, diagonally, from their starting point, although had not been a direct route - four buildings bore the brunt of the assault, flaming, their tops crumbling and raining debris. She walked over to Revan; he was lying on his side, a vague bulky shape of a cloak; a smoldering ruin. Smoke rose off of him and when she turned him over, a plume ascended out of his right eye socket – it was a gaping hole. His left hand was sheared off as well, and all across his bodies raw slices and burns appeared, revealed in the slits of torn fabric. She lifted him up, propping him on her body as he groaned – Carth, climbing up a escape stairwell, hopped over the side of the roof and got under Revan's other arm and together they hobbled, supporting him. Soon Serik, Mission, and T3 joined them, Mission yelping as she saw the wounded Jedi, Serik grabbing a syringe and pointing it – having to maneuver past Revan's slouched, slumping body, at an angle - underneath his pectoral muscle.

"We're almost there Revan." said Carth - moments later "See look!" The automated rocket, a long white tube with a separate piece, an orb, in the center, surrounded by scaffolding was directly in front of them, ten or eleven building away. "We're going to make it!" They continued holding him up, although he helped as well, walking in step with them with weak legs.

They left one building, and were crossing what appeared to be the remnants of an old, decrepit highway, rammed between two structures as a bridge, when the end of it was hit with a thick crackle of bluish energy. The beginning froze, and then exploded into a thousand small shards – the bridge fell downwards – the buildings were closer lower, and because of this the bridge ground against metal and glass, tearing up the sides, until it gradually halted, creating a steep slope. There was moment,. although Mab couldn't quite tell where, a blur of something humanoid - due to all the chaotic jumbling, Mission was jolted off her feet, and she slid downward, screaming – where the bridge terminated, a man now stood, having cut a hole through the tower. It was the Disciple, and in his hands he spun his blue lightaber, creating a dangerous trap for Mission to fall into and be ripped apart, a rotating blade. T3-M4 raced forward, and Mission grabbed onto him – Carth ran forward as well, leaving a progressively more alert Revan for Mab alone – he ran downwards, gathering speed, but pedaled his feet to slow down, stopping completely when he shoved a foot at the droid – he grabbed Mission with one hand, helping her up and gripped T3-M4 with the other and began to return – but before they left the spot he shot three beams at the disciple, the twe'lik holding on. The Disciple deflected them and they flew back - T3 beeped and flicked - with a whip like mechanical manipulator, snapping at his heels - Carth, causing him to stumbled slightly – the beams went over his head. They then scrambled up slowly and carefully, Carth and Mission slouching over and holding onto the droid.

Because Mab was intently watching, she did not notice that Revan had extricated himself from her grasp, and was standing tall. When the group was resembled he said "Go. I'll meet you at the rocket." Mab protested immediately. "You disobedient only harmed me last time! Now go!" Carth grabbed Mab's hand and they raced off, their destination only as short distance away – Revan ignited his light saber and walked towards The Disciple steadily.

They reached the ship – it was enclosed in a large skeletal frame of metal and pipes, with a staircase winding around it, hugging close to the body. Carth, (lowering his head and practically charging) Serik, (breathing horrendously, arms pumping) and Mission (leaping and skipping large amounts of steps, flying practically, lekkus waving) barreled up the flight of stairs, T3 behind. Carth slowed down and turned back to look at Mab, who had not begun climbing yet, Mission mimicking him – "Mab, come on! It's going to leave in any second! He'll make it! Don't wait for him! " "I'm staying here! Give me a couple seconds!" The gunslinger shook his head vigorously, scolding her and then grabbed Mission, continuing up – Mab moved away and positioned herself in front of the ship and the pathway leading to it, pulling out a rifle, clipping several grenades to the side of the barrel – in which position they could be launched – legs spread wide, gun pointing forward; she was holding out for the Jedi.

Serik was inside the hatch and stuck his head out screaming to Carth, Mission, and the droid: "Hurry!" They were halfway there where a light blast of flame, only the very beginning of the sequence, exploded out of the bottom of the rocket, the waves knocking out the starting supports of the scaffolding, causing it to sag and crumble. The metal collapsed, sliding off – slowly at first, but then picking up speed – Carth and Mission fell wildly, head over heels, Carth holding onto the twe'lik, in a rain of metal. With one arm , as he rolled through the air, he blocked pipes and sheets, using his shield. They dropped towards the ground on their side – Mab observed T3 plummet straight down as well, quickly, in one uninterrupted direction like a rock, squealing – he was buried onto a pile of debris – they landed, Carth thrusting out his arm, having the shield expand to cover the side of his body that was going to impact – they hit, the cement cracking. Mab ran into the barrage, dodging chunks of steel, occasionally deflecting them with a shield she was holding, sending them bouncing away – Carth picked up Mission and sprinted, trying to get out of the radius, weaving back and forth – a set of scaffolding fell at them – there was a thick blast of laser, and out of the mass that had covered T3 the droid zoomed out, carving his way - Carth kneeled, hovering protectively over Mission, both closing their eyes – T3, acting much like Mab , twinned through the chaos, pieces still ricocheting about, bursting off, or just about to fall and raced past Carth, shooting a net of red lasers without stopping – one red laser actually, moving quickly and frantically touching everything that was falling at them, briefly, at least once, like refracted light bouncing everywhere – the metal melted and splattered, Carth holding up part of his coat over his body like a cape, catching the splashes of sizzling silver.

Most of the metal had fallen now or was out of the way – Mab moved quickly, shifting her feet, around piles of it, still running towards the two – the energy coming out of the rocket became greater, and began to bellow and rumble outwards, the area shaking – one final scaffolding, one that that had hit a building and been propped up momentarily, slid and fell towards Carth and Mission – Carth shouted and pushed Mission out the way, and by then it was to late – Mab flew at him, knocking him in the chest, sending them both flying, avoiding the crash. They landed, she on top of him, near the flames – making their faces glow red and orange. They paused for a moment, then scrambled up, and ran towards Mission and the pile. Carth held out a small square pushing a button on it – out of the metal his guns – which he had dropped when Mab tackled him – flew like boomerangs through the cracks, the spaces between the tangled mass, and into the air. He caught them in his raised hands, and then shoved them into his holsters - turning towards the rocket he said very audibly "fuck." Serik, looking down, shouted something at them.

There was a sound behind them, and they turned – Revan walked towards them, very gingerly, covered in plaster and dust. "I didn't have the opportunity to kill him – so I just collapsed the building of both of us. It should prevent him from contacting the Exile." He looked up at the rocket with was now vibrating with an inscrutable expression, then starred a Mission and T3-m4 "Let's go. You first." He pulled Mission to him, and grabbed onto T3's frame, crouched down, paused, gathering his energy, then leap int the air, flying upwards – he smashed into the rocket, a way above the hatch. Holding Mission's hand completely in his own, he lifted it back, and smashed it against the rockets steel, making a dent. He then did the same with his other arm, and kicked both his feet in. "Hold on in these!" T3-M4 stuck to the side, and on it's underbelly a laser started going around, like a can opener – Serik peeked out and closed the hatch door, sealing it.

Revan pushed away from the rocket with his feet, flipping backwards, and then fell straight. Mab looking , neck craned, at him, threw up his shield – Revan landed on it, feet on the inside, standing as if it was a board, and a few seconds later hit the ground, shattering the surface of it, and slide, with one foot, the shield into the flames causing it to disintegrate. He grabbed Carth and Mab on the hips, pulling them to his own – the flames became more intense and roared towards them –– the rocket began to wobble and lift off slowly and clumsily - the burning fuel became a column of fire coming out of the end, covering and spreading out over the floor, thinly, like an undulating blanket – Revan leapt once more, and they landed a little further away from the first point. The rocket was fully operational now, in the air, and the wind and gravity tore at them, the speeding shoving them down. Revan helped them climb upwards slowly, smashing hand holds until they reached T3 – who had cut a half circle. Revan ignited his lightsaber, holding onto the ship with one hand, the other blowing into the air, wrenching part of his body back, and then (pushing T3 aside first) shoved the swords in the hull, ripping open a hole. They climbed inside – there was a grate floor only a little way down, coming from the sides of the rocket, a thin metallic base with a hole in the middle – which Serik, climbing a ladder had come through - and Revan set about to weld the makeshift entry shut shut – he got a third through, the metal bubbling and glowing, and collapsed, falling onto his back, head leaning loosely in exhaustion, blood bubbling out of his mouth, covering his face. Carth picked up his saber and finished the job.

As Mab leaned by Revan, holding his massive head, Serik moved quickly, first putting down the device that would manufacture oxygen and create protection - and then attaching shackles to Mission and Carth – metallic semi circles that magnetically connected to the wall. Mission went first, jumping up into the air; Serik threw the device at her right arm, and it attached to her in mid leap, pinning her to the wall – she hung briefly until Serik threw the other one at her, evening her out, and then connected her legs. He scanned her body, imputing calculations, attached a few small gadgets in various places, and then stabbed a finger into her thigh. She threw her head back, and screamed – her scream deepening and her throats tendons thickening – the disfigurement of one's throat when roaring and shouting seemed to became permanent; the freakish and disturbing (even in mundane situations) twisting and stretching of the skin and muscle normal, the base line.

- "T3" groaned Revan. "Direct the ship as planned. and when we are halfway there release a unsecured message to the fleet that we are coming. Hopefully the exile will read it... and believe it. As long as Calo doesn't contact her before we do, the planet should be safe!" He held out a small thin chip and then threw it. "Leak this to authenticate it."

Carth was now secured against a different wall, and Serik injected him as well – his stomach thrust forward with a yelland Mab distinctly heard his spine snapping – Mission contorted and bent, foaming at the mouth, eyes white, slamming her body vigorously against the side of the ship. Serik walked over to them – "I am going to inject myself now. My case requires more work and analysis - merely because I am Trandosian - then the others, and I want to get it out of the way." He handed them two syringes – they were scrolling LEDS on both. "I have prepared these. They say the times when to inject them – T3 will have further instructions. " T3 beeped – it had rolled near, still connected to the wires, which were trailing behind.

"Okay Revan, let's get you set up." She hoisted him up and stumbled with his heavy frame – he slammed against a wall, and began to slide again. Serik put two of the clamps again his portion of the wall and jumped up on them, using them as footholds, employing his claws as climbing equipment as well. He shoved several biomedical computers, which looked like cassettes, into his body, yellow blood oozing over, and began typing on a hologram. Mab grabbed Revan around the waist, and threw him against the wall; lugging him up with great effort, body checking him and then pinning one of his hands. Serik finished his preparations, clamped his hands, and then slipped his feet in the wide holes, which tightened. He moved his neck to a side, and poked himself with a syringe, at the end of a long talon. Mission was a full rakghoul now, snarling and spitting, attempting to wretch her body free – Carth was half, his skin moving and bulging, ripping open – the tears like gills almost, that closed and reformed into something else. Five and a half minutes to contact with the first orbs, Mab had bound all of Revan's limbs, and T3 have finished his customization of the treatment - rotating all the small disks on Revan's leg – "beep beep doot!" Mab stared in Revan's eyes, holding the needle in both hands, at the base, standing a few inches away from him, breath tickling his face. "Are your ready?" "Yes" He returned her gaze. "do it." She thrust the needle forward violently, stabbing him in the stomach; he groaned in pain, jerking his face forward, then pulled his body flat again the wall, closing his eyes, still.

Mab walked over to the final open space and pinned her legs, balancing and keeping upright. T3-M4 poked and prodded her, and with around two and half minutes left, her window of opportunity rapidly approaching - before it would be too late; she wouldn't change in time – she made to immobilize her right arm, the syringe in one of T3's head slots – Revan's eyes bulged open, revealing yellow slits, and he roared, his mouth wide and deformed, filled with fangs, the skin around it gray and cracked , his face partially transfigured: "NORD!" Mab felt it too and it changed everything – she would need Revan's wisdom and assistance now – but there was still the problem of the orbs. "T3, quickly inject me and the moment we past the security field, turn me back with the cure!" "Beep doop beep?" T3 said quizzically; they had not planned on anything like this, and Serik notes did not say if such a rapid switch was healthy or even possible: ...anything was possible with the Force, she reassured herself, gathering courage. She would just have to keep her mind cool and focused like Revan had – until he lost control that was, as he now whipped back and forth, long strings of saliva flying form his mouth, his stump bleeding yellow goo, horrific mouth still attempting to form words, growls almost sounding like curses. "We have to. Make as skilled adjustments as you can!" T3-M4 attached a wire to a patch on her arm and then stabbed her with the syringe – there was a rush of nausea and she slammed her eyes shut, whimpering.

The fleet of The Exile was approaching Taris quickly - it had been woken from it's lazy slumber, had dropped out of it's repose a few minutes earlier. Using her nascent abilities, ones she believed where unique to her, and few others, she felt the makeup of the armada, it's design, the webs of power and communication that ran through it - the formation and placement of their ships and the links between them, the machines and man who ran them. But as she continued to observe its attributes, she reached beyond all this, beyond the material, and glimpsed what was truly important - like the blood and muscle beneath skin, the view inside through a window covered in dust, the dark center of storm, crackling lighting twisting and melding, obscured by blackening clouds: all the physical matter was merely a cloak of steel and flesh, one that she brushed aside, or a veil that was gradually removed for her. The ships were glass, transparent, and through them she saw something too terrible to consider fully: she saw the armies dark engine, it's motivating force, driving it through willpower alone – once she looked at it fully, realizing it's existence, it could not be unseen; her mind dissolved into panic – she lost all coherence and descending spirally into a nervous breakdown – a sense of cosmic annihilation combined with the animallistic schizophrenia of the blight broke that which she had been trying to defend.

Eventually out of this hot madness and fear she gradually emerged; herself again. She had ridden the transformation of both her mind and body better then the average person, and as the clamps loosened – T3 had injected her moments before - she stepped out, running over to Revan, shaken yet resolute, tears running down her face (and this was disturbing, as she did not feel or observe them, they simply leaked; as if the mere situation was horrific enough people could not help but unconsciously weep) – like someone still going on after a great blow, crawling on their scratched and torn hands and knees. He was still pinned, his chest - shirt ripped open - sweaty and gray, the scales climbing up to his neck, eyes and forehead monstrous as well. She undid his feet clamps and then voice deactivated the ones holding his arms, and caught him haphazardly in her arms as he fell, steadying him – she felt his mouth nuzzle at her neck, rough and sharp, and threw/dumped him down onto the ground – he lay there, face first. He began to crawl, moaning, "no no no." and then pulled himself up, pounding against the side of the ship. "It's happening! It's all my fault!"

"Revan!" she shouted and rushed to him, spinning him around. "Calm yourself" Through trying to take care of him, she became more steady herself – she pressed her forehead against his, and stroked his wet hair, the last part of her that was mutated, a long fingered, talon hand, shrinking back to normal size. Touching his mind through the bond, she brought him back, to as even a level as was possible. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. She's here. Her fleet is almost fully assembled. " He walked over to T3 and gestured, a holographic screen popped up. "I can contact her, both by sending a direct message and mentally, - it will draw her away- but..."

Mab waited.

"We aren't far away enough!" he shouted in agony, his voice cracking. "We haven't reached a safe point!" The screen showed a pathway, a trajectory, with a small yellow dot – there was a point were the line turned green – they were about three minutes away – until they were protected.

Mab realized what he was going through and came to his side quickly, nervously. "Wait!"

His finger hovered over a holographic button- the push of the button would be almost be like the start of a ritual, allowing him to focus enough to send a arrow of thought the Exile's way – it was the preparation, the activation, the boundary crossed.

"A whole planet! A whole planet " he said, grinning wildly, as if it was some ridiculous joke to be in such a conundrum , to even consider the options. "It is not worth a whole planet Mab." - his voice rich with sorrow - he was not the same Revan who had spoken before so coolly of sacrifices and stratagems; his face twitched, eyebrows raising and lowering spastically on a pallid face.

"If you do it now, she will catch you. You're the only one who can stop her! You know it!"

He hesitated – "push it right when we - "

"I have to do it now. "

"Revan wait, we're almost there. Just hold on."

"There isn't enough time!"

"Almost! Almost! Get ready! We're going to make it."

He stayed tense and ready, both of them close to the screen, as near as possible and rapidly speaking with each other. "We're close. Just hold out!"

"Steady!"

"Mab!"

Revan readied himself, but then screamed, clutching his head and falling back, rolling around on the ground in agony. Mab stumbled back as well, completely overwhelmed, mind blotched out with utter dread.

Cutscene:

The control center of The Ravager is like a cave, wide, dark, with arched far away walls, and rough, pocked metal. In the center of it, looking out of the clear shield that is acting as a window, stands The Exile. She is an average sized women, but looks taller, for she is skeleton thin - her fingers sticks, her face tight and defined from every angle. She wears torn black ropes, a collection of long rags and strips that fail to cover her in some spots as they hang loosely in random tears; she has a fish belly, revealed, a thick knotted scar going up it, and her feet, bare, stick out. She has long black hair, once curly, now still slightly twisted, hanging lankly. Her eyes and mouth are sown shut with black thread., each stitch long and separate from the other, like the bars in a railroad track.

Surrounding her are many assassins, a few soldiers and engineers in assorted uniforms of different cultures and armies, haphazardly thrown on, dead in the eyes, and a couple Sith – although they avoid her mostly, feeling her hunger for them. (The Assassins do not fear her, as she wants nothing from them – what she does is merely what they could learn, eventually, given time, and thus they are incompatible.)

A Selkath, dressed in the uniform of a Republic Admiral, but with a light saber on his belt, walks to the Exile's side, stares at her, then turns to those in the room. "Clear out. Immediately."

They leave quickly – when the last depart, the Selkath, Ovulk Dartk, the man who has replaced Bastila as head of the military and the dark side users, kneels at the Exile's feet, grabs her pale copse hand, and kisses it. "They are calling out to you, begging. I can hear them. Remove them from this torment they call life. Offer them a way out. Give them their salvation." He lets go, and her limb drops lifelessly, flapping to her side. He stands, nodding, and walks out.. As he leaves, the shielding lowers, sucking the few loose objects out of the room. The Exile's locks twist in the air like contorting snakes, like Medusa – the Exile rips her mouth and eyes open, all at once, the stitches pinging off, bursting away and floating, revolving through the air, now slowly, as the vacuum had been solved. She says, thrusting her hands out towards the planet in front of her powerfully, almost as an afterthought, or a private remark to herself, in a raspy, ghost voice that builds "I care nothing for their SAL-VA-TION!"


Revan and Mab twisted and cried on the ground, and luckily their collapse into unconsciousness, an empty blackness startlingly similar to that which devoured Taris, was mercifully quick.