Into the dark

- Carth Onasi -

She's gone again. I frowned, and tried to concentrate on blaster I was repairing. The thermal battery was completely shot, so I was busy pulling apart our spare to get a replacement.

I wasn't sure if I should worry or not. Jen was obviously still affected by her head injury; there were enough times I'd caught a blank, almost dizzy look on her face. And she'd fainted in the middle of Taris with no warning at all. Part of me felt like she needed to be tucked up in a medical bed, recuperating – and yet, it was due to her that we now knew where Bastila was.

It was due to her that we'd even made it to the Lower City.

I wished I'd heard that conversation. Jen had sweet-talked her way past the turbo-lift guard quicker than she'd lost the credits in Javyar's cantina. It'd been verging on the ridiculous for me to suggest it had anything to do with the Force… but I found it hard to believe Jen could be charismatic enough to make a Sith soldier look the other way. These guys were meant to stop unauthorised traffic – traffic, that might be Republic fugitives in disguise. Maybe I'm not giving Jen's charm enough credit. Or maybe she has a secret stash of money put aside, earmarked especially for bribing corrupt enemy soldiers. After all, she'd kept those extra stims quiet from me. But… surely, the amount required to make a Sith look the other way had to be obscene, considering they'd be court-martialed for that sort of infringement.

The Republic Navy didn't look too kindly on bribery and corruption – I highly doubted the Sith Military was any more lenient.

Our situation was about as capricious as Jen's temperament. We were flat broke, but with unrestricted access to all of Taris. We knew where Bastila was – but first we had to break into a heavily guarded gang base. And follow that up with winning a local swoop contest.

As a boy, I used to race swoops on an underground track. I'd been particularly mediocre at it. Turns out that swoop skills aren't quite the same as piloting, thank the stars.

The door swished open, and my hand tightened on the disassembled blaster.

"Oh, you're awake," Jen commented as she swept into the room. The relief that hit me was mingled with annoyance.

"Yes," I responded bitingly. "I take it you don't believe in sleep?"

"Are you getting testy again?" A small smile curved her lips, but it didn't look genuine. She walked in further and sat down on the unmade bed. I strongly doubted just how invested she was in our mission. Stop thinking about it, Onasi. She's here and we have an objective. Things aren't hopeless.

"I don't get testy, I get angry," I returned, "and if I was angry, you wouldn't need to ask me."

"Fine!" She threw her hands up in mock defeat, and I noticed one was bandaged. My eyes narrowed.

"Have you been in another fight?" I demanded. A dull red colour suffused her face. Let me guess, she's been out 'acquiring' things again.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jen answered in a cool voice.

"Fine!" I parroted her sarcastically. Why am I so grumpy? Maybe I was being unreasonable, too. We only had each other to rely on, and despite her recklessness and unreasonably short temper, we had made a surprising amount of progress. And a lot of it was due to her.

I sighed, and Jen echoed me. She looked tired. "Shall we just get on with things?" she asked.

I nodded and reassembled my gun. "Okay, so let's aim to get down to the Undercity today. The lift we've been using down to the lower levels goes quite deep; hopefully we won't need to descend much further. I downloaded a public map when we first landed – it's incomplete, but I've found a couple of routes I think go all the way down."

I sat down next to her after retrieving my personal datapad. It wasn't easy making sense of the warrens of turbo-lifts that interconnected Taris, particularly not on a small, two-dimensional screen. If only we had a holo-map reader. It didn't seem to be an issue for Jen, though, who'd nabbed the datapad five minutes in, and was scrolling through it like a navigational expert.

She shot me a frown. "Why didn't you show this to me earlier? Y'know, when we were hunting for turbo-lifts the other day?"

"I- uh, well, our main purpose was to find an unguarded lift, if you recall." I hadn't actually noticed the holo-map until this morning, when I trawled through the informational package Zelka had downloaded for me days ago. It was an embarrassing oversight.

Jen had a disbelieving look on her face, but turned back to the map for several minutes of silence. Finally she sighed, looking up at me once more. Her green eyes were serious.

"There's lots of black spots riddled through the lower levels. Some are marked as condemned buildings – usually filled with permacrete to grant additional support to the higher levels. But there's other places the maps don't cover. And there's almost nothing on the surface. The true surface, I mean."

"They call it the Outside," I said quietly. "Vast areas of polluted space underneath all of Taris. That's where the rakghouls are." I'd never heard of a disease both so debilitating and quick to infect others. I had a hard time believing every horror accredited to these rakghouls, but it was obvious we'd be best to avoid them.

"I heard about them," she whispered.

"We only need to find a way to the sewers," I reminded her. "Can we get there without encountering these rakghouls?"

She traced a finger over the datapad. Looking over, I saw her turning various filters on and off the map. "Effluent tubes all travel down to the sewers, but they're too small for sentients our size. I don't think the ducting's connected in any meaningful way – well, if it is, it's not charted. According to this map – which is incomplete in many areas – the only way is via the Outside. There is a small outpost next to a turbo-lift though – check this out."

A habitation marker on the Undercity level blinked at me. I looked over to Jen, and saw resolution fire in her eyes. The side of her mouth quirked.

"That's where we start, Flyboy. See if they've encountered Mission."

Finding our way to the Undercity habitat and questioning the locals made sense. It was entirely possible that Mission Vao had gone back to the Bek base or elsewhere by now, but scoping out the area down below was a good starting point. I felt a renewed purpose, and stood, ready to get going.

Jen didn't follow. I looked back, remembering she'd been out for at least part of the night, and felt a mingled sense of irritation and concern. There were deep lines of exhaustion on her face.

"Are you ready to go?" I prompted. "Is... is something wrong?"

"It's just-" she sighed, before turning a scowl on me. "You said a lot of things about me didn't add up. But I know next to nothing about you – or even about Bastila. You know, the Jedi we're risking our necks for daily."

"She's our commanding officer, Jen," I said warningly. Jen's getting cold feet. Again. Jen was the last person I'd call cowardly, after seeing her in battle – yet here she was, once more talking herself out of her debt to me.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed. "And she's young, right? How is it a young Jedi Knight was in command of a Republic cruiser? Does that make any sense?"

"Padawan," I corrected, and then kicked myself for it.

Jen choked. "Excuse me? You've got to be frelling joking…"

I winced, and shook my head. "Afraid not. Look, I don't have all the answers. Republic HQ and the Jedi Order work together sometimes, particularly on the more sensitive missions. Bastila was in the company of several knights and one master. I think her command was a token gesture rather than a real one, but regardless – we were there to obey the directive of the Jedi."

She looked at me like I'd grown two heads, still muttering padawan under her breath. I sighed. "Look, Jen, even you can't deny how significant her battle meditation is to the war effort. Combine that with her fame since her strike team killed Darth Revan a year ago, and you can see why she was the popular choice to lead the Endar Spire."

In truth, Jen's reaction had been similar to mine, when I'd first heard about the insane directive that put the young Jedi hero in command. Bastila Shan – for all her reputation – was inexperienced at leading troops. And while it'd been the Cerean Jedi Master accompanying her who'd made the decisions, just the fact that Bastila held the authority on a technicality was both ridiculous and dangerous.

It just made no blasted sense.

Jen was grimacing, clutching at the side of her head. The head injury had been a severe one, for all that it was no longer noticeable through her dark curly mop. It must be healing well. Jen's barely made a peep about it. I couldn't deny that Jen Sahara was one tough customer – especially for an academic.

There was a dazed look on her face. "Battle meditation?" Jen asked weakly.

At once I felt a surge of anger at her obvious deception. There was no one alive who worked for the Jedi Order and didn't know about Bastila's rare Force gift that boosted morale and improved the reflexes of entire armies. They said it'd been a lost Jedi art, forgotten through the ages until Nomi Sunrider had manifested the ability. Nomi Sunrider was a hero of the previous generation and long gone now – and Bastila was, apparently, even stronger. Her remarkable psychic prowess had helped the Republic score a few key victories in the devastating war we were slowly losing.

Jen was staring at me, an uneasy look on her face. Suddenly, I wondered if she truly didn't know, even though that didn't seem remotely possible.

She stood before I could say anything, her expression dropping once more a composed mask. "Let's get some breakfast first," she murmured.

I nodded, retrieving my two working blasters, and eyed her over. "Where's your vibrosword?"

Jen paled. "I lost it," she muttered. I immediately felt suspicious. How can you lose a vibrosword? I sighed. I probably don't want to know.

"Grab the spare one." I pointed at the blade she had lifted from her first looting mission. The grenades were still sitting in a spare satchel. "And Jen-" I paused, as her wary eyes met mine. "Uh, the rakghouls are pretty dangerous in the Undercity, you know."

Her expression was derisive. "Yes. I know."

"What I mean, uh, is that you should, well, be a little more careful." I felt awkward, stammering like an idiot – but her penchant for running head-first into battle bordered on the suicidal.

"I'll try." She smiled falsely at me, and I felt my ire returning.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is, use a blaster would you?" I snapped. She's going to get bitten, I know it. And if what they say is true, then it only takes one bite and you're infected. It was hard to separate fact from fiction, but I did have faith in what the doctor had told me. There was no readily available cure. Stang, if only I could check out the Undercity by myself!

Jen had closed her eyes, and was taking in a deep, audible breath.

"Are you trying to control your temper?" I asked, my irritation warping into something close to amusement.

"Yes, actually. I thought you wouldn't appreciate me cutting your head off, but do let me know if I'm wrong," she snapped.

Well, there went my sense of humour. "Look, let's just get going, alright?"

After a pointedly silent breakfast we headed back down to Lower Taris. I certainly wasn't in the mood to converse, and so far Jen was following suit. Of course, the chances of Jen staying silent longer than ten minutes were considerably lower than that of winning a Hutt's lottery, but one could always hope.

"Carth, can I ask you some questions?" she asked as we walked down the Lower City corridors.

I struggled not to groan. "Oh? You want to argue some more, is that it?"

"I'm always up for a good fight," she quipped.

I laughed despite myself. Damn woman. I actually couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed. I glanced at her, and saw that mischievous twist to her mouth I was almost becoming fond of. Her eyes still had a bleak cast to them, despite the humour dancing there. I wondered what had happened to her last night. "I suppose a few questions can't hurt. What is it?"

"Well," she began, "I was just wondering if you knew about the ruins that the Jedi onboard the Endar Spire were investigating."

She was the one hired by the Jedi Order, not me! I frowned at her. "I'm sure you'd know more about their quest than I."

She avoided my gaze. "I know they were looking at ruins, which was why they hired me. But they refused to tell me anything about them in advance. Confidentiality clauses, and all that."

"Jen, I was onboard as an advisor to the navi-pilots. The Jedi certainly didn't tell me anything I didn't need to know. They like to be mysterious." I couldn't quite stop the bitterness from reaching my voice.

She arched an eyebrow at me. "You really don't like the Jedi much, do you?"

I shrugged, in what I hoped was dismissal of the subject. What self-respecting Republic soldier does like the Jedi? For all that they're on our side, they have this nasty habit of sweeping in where they're not wanted, and up-ending everybody's carefully worked-out battle plans. Oh, and keeping you in the dark. "I don't dislike them. I just don't particularly trust them much."

"You don't trust anyone much," she muttered.

"I have my reasons." I frowned at her from under lowered brows. "Look, I'm not overly fond of the Jedi because I've seen firsthand just what damage they can do."

"Damage? Jedi?" She sounded incredulous.

"Have you never heard of the Dark Side?" I said impatiently.

"Oh, you mean the Sith."

"Yes, and most of them used to be Jedi." I sighed. "I fought in the Mandalorian wars, under Revan and Malak. They were heroes. No one expected them to turn on us the way they did. Think about it... if you can't even trust the best of the Jedi, who can you trust?"

Her bright green eyes clouded with a faraway look, and once more we lapsed into silence.

xXx

The trip to the Undercity was fairly uneventful, and quicker than I'd expected. Other than two gang brawls – both of which we'd heard in advance, and managed to deftly avoid – we were able to navigate the maze of dilapidated tunnels and grinding turbo-lifts with surprising ease. Jen's chosen route was both efficient and successful, despite her misgivings about the accuracy of the map.

The Sith guards we encountered let us pass without any comment, validating the authorisation papers Gadon had granted us. I'd wondered about their authenticity, until Jen had pointed out – with a political astuteness unusual for a scholar – that behind the scenes, the Sith and the gangs probably worked together to control the population flow. If that was true, then it explained how Gadon Thek could so readily gift strangers with the ability to traverse the full depth of Taris. Jen also commented that the Exchange likely had the same freedom.

I really did not like Taris.

The lower we descended, the less guarded the lifts were. Some were deserted, some no longer operational, and one was surrounded by a handful of Vulkars. It hadn't taken Jen long to backtrack and find another route. She seemed at ease in this environment, which led me to wonder if her service records were missing part of her history. Reconciling this operation with her years spent in an academic institution was difficult at best.

The map only showed one lift that hit the Undercity – right next to the small community Jen had pointed out. The lights in the elevator had long gone, and I was thankful for the small light rods we'd obtained from Kebla's shop the previous day.

When we finally hit rock bottom and the buckled durasteel doors grated open, the smell hit my senses before anything else. Ugh, people live in this stench? I supposed they had no choice, I'd heard that the gangs forced the homeless down here permanently.

The scene was frankly dismal. Small shacks made out of rubble – mostly broken bits of plasteel and durasteel – lined the open courtyard. A few shuffling sentients lumbered about, the denizens of this bleak world. Everything was bathed in a grimy brown light, which was probably the only version of sunshine that reached this shadowy corner of Taris.

"You there! Upworlder!" A man dressed in filthy rags stumbled towards us. "Anyone using this elevator has to pay the toll!"

"I don't believe this planet!" I muttered incredulously, deactivating my light rod. I heard Jen stifle a laugh. "Look, we don't have any credits." Unless, of course, Jen lifted some during the night.

A second drifter joined the first. "You're lying, you're an upworlder! It's our elevator, if you use it you've got to give us something!" They didn't look at all threatening, being empty-handed, gaunt and obviously desperate. And yet, I wondered at their bravado, knowing that the Sith would have already been down here to search for escape pods. I bet they didn't tell the Sith it was their elevator.

Jen stepped up beside me, lifted her blaster, and declared loudly, "get out of here you filthy beggars, or I'll use my blaster to end your suffering permanently!"

The beggars squawked, clutched at each other, and ran.

I stared at Jen in shock. "What, picking on the homeless now?" Is she angry again? But no, she seemed to be composed. I felt my mood coalesce into disbelief – though frankly, nothing Jen could do these days should surprise me anymore.

"Hey, I was using the blaster, isn't that what you wanted?" She quirked a brow at me, but her expression turned sheepish under my glare. "To be honest, we don't really have credits to give them. They would have stuck around harassing us if I hadn't threatened them."

"Uh huh," I responded suspiciously. Sometimes, when it came to Jen, it was really hard to know what to believe.

I turned my attention back to the Undercity. Most of the inhabitants were content to leave us be, staring warily from a distance – possibly after witnessing two beggars flee from us as if their lives depended on it. One young woman was bold enough to approach, and let slip a little about the area. We were far from the only visitors here, she informed us. In fact, the Undercity seemed a meeting place for all the sorts of people I wanted to avoid. Exchange mercenaries. Vulkars on a looting mission. Oh, and let's not forget the Sith. But as for an adolescent Twi'lek and an overgrown Wookiee, no. The young woman knew them, though - which at least spoke of Mission's notoriety if nothing else.

I thanked the girl absently, and wandered through the ramshackle village with Jen at my heels. The place was surrounded by titasteel gates to keep the rakghouls out and grant the hopeless dwellers some semblance of safety. Presumably there were other camps scattered around the place, and the idea of being forced to live in such filth and darkness made me pity all the dwellers down here.

We were stopped briefly by a shaky old man, who latched onto Jen with a crazed expression on his wrinkled face, proclaiming her loudly to be the encampment's saviour. I bit back a chuckle at Jen's embarrassment. The nearby residents were watching the proceedings with a knowing look – obviously, this colourful character made a habit of gushing over outsiders.

Jen scowled at me when she finally managed to shake the old coot loose – I did my best to hide a grin, but judging by her glare I wasn't successful. She stomped off in the direction of the outpost's leader.

After a brief conversation, we found that he had seen Mission Vao. Late last night, but she hadn't yet returned through the locked gates. Jen and I looked at each other, both silently wondering the same thing: was the young Twi'lek stuck out there somewhere? Or did she know of another way out of the Undercity?

Considering the kid's apparent resourcefulness, I suspected the latter.

Jen started stalking towards the high barricade that encircled the habitation, making a beeline for the guard. The gates had to be at least ten feet high, made of a resilient looking mesh that connected to titasteel pillars spaced no more than two metres apart. The gate was reinforced with additional durasteel beams, but we could see through the mesh. Beyond lay a murky, desolate nothingness. Jen can't seriously be thinking of going out there yet, can she? I strode to catch up.

"What are you doing, Jen?" I asked. "We're not going out there, not until we find Mission-"

A scream from beyond the gates caught our attention – and that of the guard.

"Let me in! Please, there's no 'ghouls around!" a young girl's voice came from the darkness beyond. The ambient brownish light didn't extend far, and through the gates we saw a figure emerge at breakneck speed, running directly towards the gate guard.

He held up a blaster, scanning the area competently before quickly opening the gates.

My mouth dropped open as I recognized the form of Mission Vao herself. How coincidentally fortuitous. The girl was frantic; even as the gates closed behind her, she'd turned, scanning hopelessly back into the depths of the Outside.

Her hands were empty, clenched tight at her sides. Her headtails were flicking around her shoulders in distress, and a utility belt hung askew from her waist. Where's her Wookiee friend?

"Mission!" Jen called, and the Twi'lek spun around, her eyes lighting on us in desperation.

"Jen! I remember you two!" she gasped, and ran towards us. This close I could see the fear in her eyes. "Please, say you'll help me!"

"What happened?" I asked in concern. Her face crumpled.

"They took him!" she sobbed. "They took us, but I managed to escape. I can't leave him there, but the Beks won't come to the Undercity. Not even for me. Please – you two know how to fight – please help me!"

A loaded look passed between me and Jen, and we both turned back to face Mission.

"Whoa, slow down, Mission," Jen said in a calming voice. "What's wrong?"

The Twi'lek hiccupped, and her bright eyes filled with tears. "It's Zaalbar. It's all my fault. I hassled him to go into the sewers again – we've been fine there before, but my 'scanner was playing up and we didn't spot them. Please – I'll pay you – we've got to go back for him. Those ronto-turds will sell him into slavery – or worse!"

"Mission," I said slowly. "Deep breaths. We need detail here. Who took him?'

She sniffled. "Gamorreans. I've seen them before in the lower levels, but never in the sewers. Maybe the stink reminds them of home – I dunno. They caught us both – they're slave hunters, probably running a trade through the Vulkar base or something – but we have to hurry! Please!"

"Of course we'll help you, Mission," Jen soothed. She glanced back at me. "We actually need your help in return."

I tensed; Gamorreans were tough and mean - tusked humanoid creatures that were often hired as brutes for the Exchange or anyone with enough credits. But they were also notoriously thick and slow. Our advantage would be to catch them from a distance. This could be exactly what we need. Luck or chance, this is a surefire way to win Mission's aid.

"You'll help me?" Mission's eyes were now shining with hope. She sniffed, and turned back to the guard. "Great!" she called over her shoulder. "Thank you! Let's go!"

Jen made to follow. Part of me didn't like how quick the two of them were ready to jump straight into danger - without a plan, without preparations, with barely a discussion of our destination. Although, if it was my friend, I'd be racing back too. And the longer we take, the more chance the Wookiee gets moved.

"Jen, wait a minute," I called. "Look, before we head out – I need to say something."

Jen turned back to me wearing a frown of impatience. Mission was all but tapping her foot, panic and hope vying for dominance on her young face.

"It's just, uh, what I said earlier today," I muttered. "The rakghouls sound pretty crazy. Almost as crazy as you, heh." I coughed as her frown deepened. "Look, I just get this feeling you're going to get bitten by one. Just- just try to be careful? For my sake?"

Her face smoothed before transforming into a saccharine smile. "Aw, Flyboy, I didn't know you felt that way." She stalked away, motioned to the guard, and strode out of the gates with Mission at her heels - leaving me staring at her departing back.

"Argh!" I groaned in frustration, and followed her out. "Damn fool woman!"

The gates squeaked as they shut behind us. Jen stopped, lifting her blaster while she canvassed the area. As I stepped to her side, she threw a grin at me, but it looked forced. Just like it had all day. Something's been bothering her since last night.

I held my blaster defensively, visually searching the barren landscape. No rakghouls in sight, just darkness and rubble. "Where did you go last night, Jen?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she responded, an echo of this morning's conversation. Mission was looking between the two of us apprehensively.

"Did you go on a looting mission again?" I persisted.

"Is this really the time?" she asked in a sardonic tone, her eyes still darting at the shadows that encompassed us.

"I-uh, well-" Probably not, I realized in embarrassment.

"Okay, yes," she said shortly. "Yes, I did. Yes, I broke my promise, and yes, we have more credits. Oh, and no, I don't want to talk about it."

I guess I deserved that. The Twi'lek looked uncomfortable, and I noticed she was still empty-handed. I turned my attention to her.

"Mission, do you have a weapon?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head, her lekku curling around her neck defensively. "The Gamorreans stripped us clean. They left my belt – although they emptied it first. But at least I still got that." She fiddled with it and I heard an unfamiliar click. Suddenly Mission's figure blurred, encased by a reflective shield that almost hid her from sight.

Jen blinked in surprise. "Stealth fold generator," she said in awe, echoing my disbelief. "Those are rare, Mission. How'd you get your hands on one of those?"

A click and Mission reappeared in solid colour. She had a faint grin on her face as I turned my attention back to the surroundings. "It helps to be friends with a gang leader. There's not many of these around, but they're useful in the Undercity. The rakghouls can't see me when it's on."

Stealth fold technology was still emerging, and only useful in low light as it was glaringly easy to spot the blurry outline of a stealthed person. Possibly that was why stealth belts hadn't really taken off on the open market – it's benefits were limited, and the wearer had to move slowly to stop the field from being disrupted.

"The rakghouls must have poor visibility then," Jen was murmuring. "That's good to know."

"Take a blaster, kid." I handed one to Mission. She was quick to grab it, even as her face contorted into a hot glare.

"I ain't a kid!" Mission snapped.

"Sorry," I muttered, struggling not to roll my eyes. Note to self: don't call the kid a kid. Although, to be fair, she probably felt like I was talking down to her – something I'd detested as a kid, myself. "Do you know how to use a blaster?"

She nodded, the annoyance vanishing from her face. "Yeah, but we relied on our bio-scanners to stay out of trouble. You guys have 'scanners, right?"

"Uh, no," Jen admitted. "So you need to lead us quickly to the sewers. Can you do that?"

At the girl's nod we headed out, leaving the safety of the gates well behind us.

The Undercity smelled like burnt rubbish and rotting flesh, a rancid sort of stench that reminded me sharply of past battles. I'd fought in the Mandalorian Wars, but usually in the skies, behind the safety of a swift snubfighter's guns. I'd been good at it, damn good, but there'd been a few occasions when I'd been involved in ground battles.

They were nastier and bloodier. Deaths were more personal when one had to raise a gun and shoot the enemy in the face. And I found, as we walked along, that cauterized flesh and burning machinery smelled an awful lot like the Outside of Taris.

Jen and I flanked Mission, guns drawn as we strode through the desolate environment. The ground was a hard-packed clay, littered with broken slabs of permacrete and fallen titasteel cables. I'd heard that sometimes parts of Taris would collapse, creating sinkholes in amongst the mid-levels of the ecumenopolis, causing carnage for whatever inhabitants were in close proximity. The great Tarisian machine would plow on, rebuilding over the rubble in a piecemeal fashion.

"You said you wanted my help?" Mission whispered at one stage, leading us past a towering pile of plasticeel off-cuts. On her face was a fragile look of hope that was almost heartbreaking to see. She is just a kid, no matter that she hates the label. A kid who is racing into danger to rescue her friend. If nothing else, this Mission had guts – but it would've been nice to acquire her help without charging down a bunch of slavers.

"Yeah," Jen responded. "Gadon said you'd help me get inside the Vulkar base."

"The Vulkar base?" Mission's lekku twitched. "You're going there? Cool! Sure, I can help. Big Z and me both, once you get him out of the sewers."

Cool? Cool?! I stared at the girl in dawning horror. She's going to get on well with Jen. Far too well, I suspect.

A shout up ahead had us all tensing in readiness; we stopped, blasters aimed, as a company of men slowly materialized from the brown gloom. As it became obvious they weren't rakghouls, Jen and I slowly lowered our weapons. Mission was still clutching hers awkwardly until I nudged her.

When the closest stranger came into range, he raised a rifle and called out to us in a nervous voice.

"Don't... don't move! I'm... I'm not afraid to use this blaster if I have to!"

An armoured man from further behind strode up next to him, laying a cautionary hand on his arm. "Settle down, kid," he said gruffly, in a thick accent I knew all too well. Mandalorian. An instinctive feeling of dislike wedged itself in my gut. I had to remind myself that that particular war was now over.

The Mandalorian turned to face us, eyed us up and down, and dismissed us with a glance. "By the looks of you I'd say you're down here for the same reason we are: to salvage something from those downed Republic space pods. Let me give you some advice: forget about it. Do yourself a favour and just head back the way you came." He issued it like a command. Heh, that's going to annoy Jen. But as I looked at her, a strange expression crossed over her face.

She said something back to the leader, something foreign and incomprehensible – but the sounds were all too familiar. She can speak Mandalorian? A sharp look of surprise crossed the weather-beaten face of the lead merc. He snapped something back at her in the same tongue.

They're having a conversation. Jen's having a blasted conversation in Mandalorian!

I'd caught enough phrases during the war to recognize a battle greeting of sorts, followed by the man introducing himself as Canderous – but the rest was an unintelligible garble. The man gave Jen an almost respectful nod which she returned, before calling the rest of the mercs to follow him as he strode briskly away.

"Wow, he looked pretty tough!" Mission whispered as the group disappeared from view. "Did he say anything interesting?"

"Hang on, sister," I said warningly as Jen started moving away. "You can speak Mandalorian?"

"Well, um, I learnt languages when I was studying," she muttered.

"I thought you studied archaeology," I countered. I could feel myself frowning.

"Cool, did ya go to a university or something?" Mission cut in. "Where you from, Jen?"

Jen looked at me blandly, and turned to answer Mission instead. "A planet called Deralia. I studied mostly archaeology, anthropology, and languages."

And languages? Now why does it sound like she tacked that on to the end for my benefit?

"But Mandalorian?" I muttered skeptically. I've had my doubts whether she's loyal to the Republic before. This just seems to confirm it.

"Hey, is that an escape pod?" Jen pointed further ahead. As a way to stop my questions, it was pretty effective. And true, too - a cone shape was embedded deep into the ground from the direction that Canderous' group had emerged. That caught my attention, and I mentally let the conversation go. Why Jen could speak Mandalorian was something I'd find out later – for now, I decided, I'd best just keep my mind on our surroundings.

"Let's go have a quick look," I said.

The cockpit of the escape pod was mostly intact, door included, but the remainder was a pile of twisted metal and scorch marks. We searched through the rubble only to find it had already been stripped clean.

Mission started poking about in it curiously, but Jen was keeping watch, eyes tight on the environment.

"There's something up ahead," Jen muttered, going rigid. My eyes snapped up, and I could see three lumbering figures heading towards us. Rakghouls. That must be rakghouls. My gut clenched, my muscles tensed, and my blaster raised into the air.

Mission squeaked and, with a click, transformed into a fuzzy blur. I stepped next to Jen, weapons primed and targets sighted, and fired when the first was in range.

Although slow and easily staggered by a blaster bolt, the mutants were resilient and required multiple shots before they fell. They're tough. Without armour, a single blaster hit to the torso would down most sentients. Tougher than I expected. Jen and I fired in unison, and the second one dropped about ten paces away from us. Damn, they must have a weakness. I squinted, and steadied my aim. This one's going down, I thought determinedly as it lurched closer.

The wind was knocked from my lungs as something slammed into my side, knocking me to the ground. Mission screamed. What the...? I struggled to move, but a heavy weight pinned me, snarling. A fourth rakghoul? I'd been concentrating so fiercely on my aim that I'd been caught unawares, I realized in self-disgust.

I grunted, twisted my arm free and shot it in the head, just as its teeth dug into my shoulder. Red hot pain lanced through my side, and I heard it shriek from the blaster wound. It swiped its claws through my armour, and bit down on my other arm. One shot in the head is not enough? I screamed as its jaw clamped down a third time on my arm, and the smell of rotting flesh invaded my senses. Blood filled my eyes, and with a desperate grunt I rammed my blaster into the growling mass of fur, firing again and again. What does it take for these things to die?

The weight was lifted off me and I gasped, opening eyes to see Jen. Her face was pinched was obvious fear. And worry. Hah. She's worried – about me, of all people. Dull horror pounded through my head as I abruptly understood why she was so worried. I've got the rakghoul disease, I thought numbly. I'm a dead man.

"This is bad, Republic!" she muttered, trying to drag me up into a sitting position. A sudden pain sheared through my arm. I glanced down; the bites left ragged wounds that were bleeding hot red liquid over my limb.

My vision blurred and my shoulder throbbed. My fingertips prickled with numbness. "Don't call me that," I said through clenched teeth.

"Mission – how long does it take for someone to transform?" Jen demanded.

"Um, I dunno! A day, maybe. But he's been bitten heaps, Jen! It'll be, like, way less time!" Mission's voice was shaken, scared. "There's no way to stop the rakghoul disease!"

Poetic justice. I was so certain Jen would be the one to get into trouble.

"You've got to go," I rasped. This is the end. Horror curled in my stomach. Those rakghouls had been vicious, mindless beasts. Agony was burning in my shoulder, and I imagined the venom slowly circulating through my system, a ticking countdown until death. Worse than that. I could kill Jen and Mission. "I might transform. You need to go!"

"Sith patrols carry the serum," Jen told me. Serum? I haven't heard about any cure for the disease. Jen was crouching next to me, pulling apart one of Kebla's medpacs before hurriedly dressing my arm and shoulder. I couldn't hold back a grunt of pain. "This 'pac only has that cheap gree-bacta salve," she muttered. "We'll get you more kolto in the Upper City."

"Jen." My good arm raised outward, stopping her ministrations. Serious green eyes met mine in the faint glow of Mission's light rod. "We don't know how long I have. I-" I shook my head, and pushed her away gently, clambering to my feet. A sudden surge of dizziness had me stumbling back to the ground.

Pain stabbed deep into my shoulder, and I groaned, vaguely aware that Jen was wrapping something against my arm again. The ground was rocky and uneven underneath me. "You should shoot me," I mumbled. I'm going to transform into one of those monsters. No!

I felt my eyes closing, and my entire limb was throbbing a painful ache with every beat of my heart. Pushing the disease deeper and deeper into my body. I thought we'd been doing so well, too. Should have known it would go belly up. "I'll kill you, if I transform. End it, before I kill you!"

Funny, I always thought my end would be on the frontlines. With enemy snubs in the viewport, firing on as many as I could, while some black-hearted bastard got a lucky shot on me-

"Onasi, get up," Jen snapped, one arm underneath me and the other pulling on my good side. "Stop being such a baby."

What? Outrage at her unjust name-calling had me glaring at her. "Baby?" I spluttered, struggling to my feet as she yanked me upright. My good arm tingled. My bad arm burned.

But Jen wasn't looking at me - she was staring at the escape pod, her jaw set with determination. She gave me a push forward, and pain blossomed down my side as I stumbled, only staying upright because most of my weight was leaning on her. I wasn't... I wasn't quite sure exactly how badly I'd been hurt, but I didn't think mere flesh wounds should be this debilitating.

I've got the rakghoul disease. I'm a dead man.

"What are you doing?" Mission squeaked.

I half-walked, half-staggered as Jen continued to propel me forward. I only understood her intent when she motioned Mission to open the hatch.

"Can you get in by yourself?" Jen asked, gesturing to the escape pod with the hand that wasn't holding me upright.

It wasn't a bad idea... but the hatch door wouldn't keep me contained forever.

"If I turn, this won't keep me," I said quietly, my hands resting on the cool durasteel of the Endar Spire's escape pod. With a grunt and a grimace, I clambered inside. By the time I was seated, I'd broken into a sweat and was shaking from the throbbing of my shoulder. Is that a fever setting in?

No, surely that was paranoia. It couldn't happen that fast.

"We've got some time, Flyboy," Jen said seriously. "I'll get that serum. Hold on, okay?"

"Just make sure you find Bastila," I said weakly. My fingers felt numb and prickly. Fuzziness was drawing in around the edges of my vision. Bastila's the only hope left for the Republic. I can't really trust Jen to go after her, but I have no other choice.

"I'll rescue her, I promise." Her voice was soft.

"Heh, like you promised not to steal again?" I joked feebly.

I closed my eyes again, and heard the door shut manually above me.

xXx

Author's Note:
Review, please! Even though this chapter was posted a long time ago, if you're reading this fic I'd love to hear what you think.