Kashyyyk. Bastila told the sleeping man, as she walked through his dreams, alongside the shadow of his mind.
Weakly, flashes of trees and darkness, sharp teeth, and pain darted through the dreams, but nothing more.
Star Map, she prodded.
The dark shape halted in mid step, and turned to look at her.
I cannot remember.
Bastila had grown accustomed to Kyle's subconscious mind however, and being directly addressed was no longer as startling as it once was.
We must find the Star Map on Kashyyyk, Bastila pleaded.
I will try, the darkness promised grimly. The impressions returned, but no matter how the shadow fought, he could not force his way through the barrier. The memories were simply too damaged, too fragmented, flowing through his clutching fingers like sand… or blood.
I cannot remember, the shadow apologized.
As Bastila prepared to leave the dream, the shadow paused, Wait.
Bastila froze.
I remember dirt beneath my boots.
And? Bastila prodded.
That's all.
((()))
Kyle inspected his hand, and curled it into a loose fist… he didn't put too much strain on it, as Bastila had warned him. His hand was well on the way to recovery, but wasn't fully healed, the same for his shoulder joint.
"Wookiee could you help me with something?" Ordo asked, locating the enormous warrior rooting through the foodstuffs.
((What do you need?)) the wookiee asked.
Ordo held up a wrist rocket between his thumb and forefinger, "Could you make more like these?"
The wookiee carefully took the explosive from his comrade, and peered at the design.
((without auto-tracking and self propulsion?)) Zaalbar asked, noting the advanced characteristics of the rocket.
"The gauntlet has a magnetic sling as part of the launcher system. I could just use that to propel the missiles, if necessary," Ordo said.
((Let me check what I have lying around…)) the wookiee said, intrigued with the project.
"Thanks," Ordo said. Poison darts were fine for killing slavers, but he needed something more… aggressive, as the fight with Calo Nord, and the Jedi Hunters had shown him.
((()))
Bastila convened the crew around the holographic projector in the main hold.
She called up the databank entries for Kashyyyk, and displayed them.
((Kashyyyk… my home.)) Zaalbar said, startled.
"Zaalbar, what can you tell us about your planet?" Bastila asked.
((I didn't leave Kashyyyk voluntarily. I was made an exile twenty years ago, disowned by my home and people. I should not be here. They will not accept me back))
Zaalbar said, and HK-47 quickly translated for the others.
"Zaalbar, you know more about this planet than any of us," Carth protested.
((If I am discovered, I will be killed)) Zaalbar said firmly.
"Very well…" Bastila said, taken aback.
"The star map we're looking for is somewhere on the planet's surface…" Bastila said, "we should make contact with the wookiees, see if they have any legends that might reveal its location."
"Zaalbar, remain with the ship, and I'm sorry Tee three, but your treads aren't suited for this planet," Bastila said.
The little droid moaned, and rolled off, to go find something to repair…
"I'm staying with Big Z," Mission said.
"Very well," Bastila said, shrugging.
"Everyone else, assemble at the boarding ramp… we have a map to find," Bastila said grimly.
((()))
The dockmaster who approached the ship wasn't human. Kyle recognized the horns immediately. A devaronian.
"Let me handle this," Kyle said edging in front of Bastila.
"Greetings to you. While I am pleased to welcome you to planet G5-623, I do not see your ship on my docking schedule," the red skinned alien said graciously, "The Czerka Corporation will see to your needs, of course, but there will be a 100 credit docking fee. In advance, I fear."
"Of course," Kyle said, tilting his head to the left slightly and nodding. A gesture he'd picked up from Ricki.
The devaronian hesitated for a brief moment, before returning the subtle gesture of respect. Kyle also maintained eye contact. Most humanoids became uncomfortable with prolonged "staring" but it made Devaronian's nervous when others would not meet their eyes. Males only broke eye contact when they were finished speaking, and departing, or when they lowered their heads to ram. Kyle handed the credits to the officer, who quickly pocketed them.
"Now, you are welcome on Edean, trade designation G5-623. Czerka Corporation welcomes your business. We should discuss your interests in my office. We will also arrange for translation services, for a nominal fee, of course. You'll be encountering a number of Wookiees while here."
"That won't be necessary, I brought my own protocol droid," Kyle said, gesturing vaguely towards HK-47.
((()))
Canderous did not like the "road" they walked upon. It was a semi flattened tree branch, without handrails… and Canderous did not like heights.
"Maybe we should have brought the Wookiee out. This place looks... untamed," Canderous muttered.
Juhani looked over at the uncomfortable warrior, "Are you afraid of the wild, Mandalorian? Are you a coward?"
Canderous snorted, "Mandalorians aren't cowards. We're just practical." And I don't have a jetpack.
"Observation: We should have brought the Wookiee, despite the smell. He would have knowledge of this place, master," HK chimed in.
"He has been away a long time," Bastila replied.
"Retort: "A long time" is still more frequent than "never," which is how many times the rest of us have been here, master," the droid pointed out cheekily.
Actually… not quite true in Kyle's case, Bastila thought briefly.
"Just keep your eyes on the foliage," Kyle sighed.
Juhani felt her blood stir in this strange, wild place… it made her feel… alive. She wished the wookiee could have accompanied them.
"Ahh!" Carth yelped, as something with a very long tongue snagged his arm.
"Carth!" Bastila barked, grabbing him with an invisible hand… which resulted in a tug of war.
Juhani flashed towards Carth, and her blue blade cut the air, severing the tongue.
She caught the unbalanced man, and prevented him from tumbling off the walkway.
"What the hell was that?" Carth demanded, yanking the tongue-like appendage off his arm.
"It wasn't an animal…" Bastila said, searching with her senses, "Some kind of plant. I didn't notice its thoughts," she apologized.
"Great. Now the flowers are hungry," Carth grumbled.
Kyle consulted his datapad, "If the map is accurate… we're getting close to the village."
"Good," Canderous grunted.
((()))
Mission finished slicing into the corporate records of the Czerka building. She was hanging upside down from a vine to get at the communications box, but it was worth it. She plugged the data feed cable into her pad, and downloaded the information she wanted, specifically searching for her brother's aliases…
((()))
Zaalbar focused on the task at hand, teasing the baradium core from a thermal detonator. Once that was accomplished, the wookiee carefully cut the gummy material with a plastic blade, into several strips, approximately the size of the tiny missile casings that T3-M4 had constructed for him, based on a scan of the wrist rocket. Zaalbar wrapped the explosive in a thin plastic membrane, to insulate it from the metal cylinder (which would prevent premature detonation if the casing became charged by static electricity).
He used a cheap two-stage impact detonator, installed in the tip of the small rocket. Once launched from Ordo's wrist, the violent acceleration would arm the impact detonator. Upon rapid deceleration, via impact with a surface, the detonator would spike the small strip of baradium with an electrical jolt, causing a small, but powerful fusion explosion. Zaalbar inspected the explosive device, and set it to one side of the work bench, satisfied. He still had enough baradium from the thermal detonator to create four more rockets.
"So, Big Z… what happened?" Mission asked, appearing at his elbow.
((I'd rather not talk about it)) Zaalbar said, concentrating on the next rocket.
"Yeah, but it's important, so spill," Mission said impatiently.
Zaalbar snorted in annoyance, but he knew the girl wouldn't let it go.
((My brother made deals with the slavers and allowed them to get a foothold. I found out, and attacked him. The fight was stopped, but my father did not believe me when I told him about my brother's actions.)) Zaalbar said, setting the completed rocket next to the first, reaching for another baradium strip.
Mission grabbed his hand, "Why didn't your father believe you?" Mission asked gently.
Zaalbar hung his head, ((When I attacked my brother I used my claws. Our claws are tools, not weapons. To use them in battle is to become an animal. It is madness without honor. I am a madclaw in the eyes of my people. Nothing I say is to be trusted. They were right to cast me out))
"Big Z, just how old are you, anyway?" Mission asked, curious.
((By my people's reckoning, I am barely considered an adult)) Zaalbar said.
"So… would your dad really kill you?" Mission asked.
((He would most likely never know. Any hunter who recognized me would kill me on sight)) Zaalbar explained.
"But if you could get to your dad… do you think he'd change his mind?" Mission asked.
Zaalbar shrugged.
"I mean, there's slavers all over the place. Kind of vindicates you… just a little…" Mission pointed out.
Zaalbar hesitated, setting the third missile down next to the first two.
((Perhaps…)) Zaalbar said, and he felt something stir in his chest, something painful, that he had given up on long ago.
Perhaps I can go home…
"Tee three can hold the fort for us," Mission suggested.
((No. I will not risk harming you, Mission)) Zaalbar growled.
"I'm not give'n you a choice, furball," Mission growled, planting her weak arms on her fragile hips.
((I could leave you behind)) Zaalbar pointed out.
"I'll just follow on foot, get hopelessly lost, and eaten by something with too many teeth," Mission said smugly.
Zaalbar knew she would do it too.
((Very well…)) he snarled.
((()))
Mission clung to her friend's back as he scrambled through the thick canopy. She was firmly secured by the strap to Zaalbar's bowcaster, in addition to locking her arms and legs around him.
"I never thought I'd see the big trees. Your stories didn't do it justice. This is incredible!" Mission yelled in Zaalbar's ear. The wookiee ran to the edge of the current bough, and threw himself off into empty space, angling for a trailing vine several meters below them, swinging to the next tree limb. It was insane! So naturally, Mission loved it.
Zaalbar hesitated, scenting the air.
((The wind... the sound... the smells… I feel it all now that we are away from the spaceport. This walkway is new, probably built by the slavers, but I remember the trees. My village is not far from here.))
"I'm here for you, Big Z. I've got you back, and no scruffy wookiee is going to hurt you," Mission promised fiercely.
((My father is not exactly scruffy, Mission. He was very powerful... a chieftain. Perhaps his feelings have mellowed, but if my brother had his ear all this time... I may be very unwelcome)) Zaalbar said, worried.
"You need to do this, Big Z," Mission encouraged.
((My shame was meant to be forgotten on some far away world. I never thought I'd come back)) Zaalbar said heavily.
"Well, we're not going to get anything done just standing here," Mission pointed out. Zaalbar nodded, and resumed their breakneck pace through the thick branches and leaves. He had been running away for too long. Now he was coming back… and strangely, the fatigue that had plagued him for so long abated, even as his muscles began to burn.
((()))
Kyle heard the whine of a blaster retort nearby. The others had heard it as well, and weapons appeared in hands.
"Something died," Bastila whispered quietly, "something sentient."
((()))
"This isn't good. I can't afford this," a man in czerka uniform said, staring down at a dead wookiee.
"You think I can? Do you know what they get for a healthy one of these things?" a second man said, worried.
A third man, apparently in charge snapped, "We'll work it out later. We've got company."
The man had a cruel face, Juhani decided. "What do you want, spacers? I'm Patrol Captain Dehno and you're interrupting Czerka Corporation business," he said sharply.
"What happened here?" Bastila asked harshly.
"This Wookiee slave got a little... rebellious. We had to put it down," the man sneered at her.
"You murdered him," Juhani hissed, her hand tightening on the hilt of her lightsaber, hidden beneath the flap of her cloak.
"That's right! We had to do it and it shouldn't come out of our pay!" the first guard said, nervous, eying what he thought was a blaster beneath the Cathar's cloak.
"Just shut up, you trigger-happy idiot," the captain barked.
"Do your superiors approve of you killing wookiees?" Bastila asked coldly.
"No, of course they don't. Why would you ask me that?" the captain said warily.
"You're trying to get me to admit to incompetence, aren't you? Not going to happen. I stand by my patrol," the captain accused.
"This Wookiee got out of hand and had to be put down. We'll find another easy enough," the captain told her, as if speaking to a child.
"Commander, can I teach him a lesson? Please?" Kyle said, looking at Bastila.
"Nothing permanent, I hope," Carth muttered.
"No sir, just a quick refresher on basic civility," Kyle promised, handing his helmet to Carth.
"Is that a joke? Who do you think you are?" the captain demanded, his hand straying to his blaster. Bastila nodded to Kyle.
Kyle's hand flashed out, slapping the man, leaving a red imprint on his cheek, and spinning him to the ground. Getting hit on a bare cheek by a man with armor wasn't a pleasant experience. The other two guards decided not to intervene, considering they were staring town the barrels of three blasters… one of them held by a mandalorian.
"I'd sit this one out if I were you," Carth advised them. Cautiously, they raised their hands.
Kyle kicked the captain's blaster out of his hand, and it disappeared into the darkness below. It looked like it had been an expensive model too.
"Is that all you've got?" Kyle taunted, beckoning the captain.
Enraged, the man tried to tackle his tormentor, but received an elbow to the jaw for his trouble. The captain spat a tooth out onto the branch, and stood, glaring hatefully at Kyle.
He lunged forward, and tried to punch Kyle. The commando stepped aside, and as the man turned to follow, Kyle landed a headbutt on the man's nose, dropping him.
"Ah… a keldabe kiss…" Canderous chuckled.
"Your captain seems to have tripped over his arrogance. Help him back to the space port, would you?" Carth instructed the two cowering guards. The two human men hesitantly threw their captain's arms over their shoulders, and scurried past the republic trooper.
"That was refreshing," Canderous chuckled.
"Observation: there is blood on your forehead, master. You may wish to remove it. No telling what kind of pathogens that meatbag carried… which is why it is far better to be a droid."
((()))
"Sergeant… a word?" Bastila said, jerking her head away from the group. The commando nodded, and followed her out of "ear shot."
"What I feel within you troubles me," she said.
He cocked his head at her, bemused.
"A Padawan must receive considerable training. They must learn to control their emotions and darker impulses. Often it takes years before using the Force can be considered safe. The fact that you are so strong in the Force and have had no training could have terrible consequences. For you, and for everyone around you," Bastila warned direly.
"I need my emotions, commander, or else I'm just a droid. Besides, I can't use the Force, so what do I care about light or dark?" Kyle asked. Either no emotions, or become a monster? Hell of a choice.
"Self-control is a maxim for all Jedi. It is what gives us the strength to resist the dark side. All who have fallen from our Order have shown a flagrant disregard for such control," Bastila argued.
"I'm not a Jedi," Kyle growled. He would not neuter his feelings, just for this woman's imaginary fears.
"Already you exhibit the kind of willfulness, erratic behavior and lack of compassion that will lead you to corruption!" Bastila exclaimed.
"You mean that bastard? He's still breathing," Kyle said coldly.
"You are better than that," Bastila said harshly.
"No, ma'am, I'm not. I'm a soldier. I fight, I kill, to protect those who can't protect themselves… like that dead wookiee. I kill the enemy, commander," Kyle hissed.
"We must all resist the influence of the dark side! It is everything we are fighting against! This is doubly important for you, with your natural affinity for the Force!" Bastila retorted.
Kyle stepped back, as pieces began to click into place, "You're not worried about me," he realized.
"Our destinies are intertwined. Everything one of us does will have consequences for the other. Any reckless behavior on your part is likely to affect me as well," Bastila admitted.
And suddenly it made sense. But what escaped him was how. Was this why Jedi always acted so aloof and mysterious? Because they were trying to keep their distance? Underneath all of their power and strength… were they really so vulnerable to the emotions of others?
"How are we… intertwined?" Kyle asked slowly.
"The council has seen… a possible future… in which Malak is defeated. That future is only possible with your help. I need your help, or I will fail, and the Republic will die," Bastila said heavily.
So she can't just cut me loose, or avoid me. She has to endure my presence.
"But… why are my emotions such a threat?" Kyle asked, trying to clarify the specifics of the issue.
"Because our fates are intertwined, and that we are both sensitive to the Force, it has created a powerful bond between us. Possibly stronger than that between a master and padawan. Surely you have felt it?"
"I can feel when you look at me, or try to find me without your eyes," Kyle answered slowly.
"Can you feel what I feel?" Bastila asked.
"Sometimes. But it's so faint…"
"Not for me," Bastila sighed.
"Could I… corrupt you… with my anger?" he asked quietly.
"It has been… difficult… these last few weeks… to control my emotions. It was not until you fought that man, when I realized my desire to kill him was not my own. It was yours," Bastila said, and Kyle did not see a Jedi Knight. He saw a young woman faced with something no one had ever prepared her for, frightened, and alone.
"So… on Dantooine… my frustration with you fed your irritation with me… which simply compounded the frustration…" Kyle realized.
Bastila nodded miserably.
"It works both ways, doesn't it? You could help me… mellow… a little," Kyle suggested. Emphasis on a little. Don't smother it, Kyle thought grimly.
"Yes, that is true, but there are times when I find the sheer strength of your emotions overwhelming," Bastila admitted.
Kyle looked at his boots, sobered by this admission.
"If you'd told me this earlier," he sighed.
"I did not realize such a thing was possible," Bastila explained.
"I will try," Kyle promised.
"I hope it is enough," Bastila said grimly.
((()))
Kyle crouched next to the crumpled wookiee, "What do we do with the body?" he asked.
"Query: why do anything with it at all? There are sufficient scavengers to dispose of the body, without our intervention. Why waste time and resources?" HK-47 observed.
((I will carry her)) a wookiee offered. The group looked up as Zaalbar dropped down onto the walkway, Mission's lekku flapping wildly.
"I thought you could not leave the ship?" Bastila said.
Mission slipped off her friend's back, and explained, "Big Z's got some unfinished business with his dad, who's a big shot."
Her face was flushed, and her eyes looked a little too bright, almost like she'd been drinking again, Carth thought, worried. He hoped she hadn't found where he hid the Corellian Whisky.
Zaalbar threw the body of the young female over his shoulder easily.
((Mandalorian)), Zaalbar paused, and fished several objects Mission couldn't identify out of a pouch, and handed them to Canderous.
The group resumed their journey, but encountered no further obstacles, with Zaalbar along to warn them.
((()))
((Stop where you are, outsider. You enter the domain of Chuundar, Chieftain and leader!)) a massive wookiee snarled, brandishing his bowcaster in front of a thick wooden gate.
((Stand aside! This human is with me and I want access to the home of my people!)) Zaalbar said proudly, baring his fangs.
((Wait. I know that scent…)) the wookiees eyes widened in hatred, ((Mad-claw!))
He raised his bowcaster, but Bastila ripped it from his hands, tossing it off into the trees.
"Perhaps now we can have a civil conversation?" she enquired, activating her lightsaber.
"Take us to Chuundar. We would speak with him," she commanded, prodding at his mind with the Force.
((You are nameless with dishonor, mad-claw! Yours is a foulness that disgusts me!)) the guard snarled, looking as if he were about to rip Zaalbar apart, regardless of their weapons, almost as if all he could see was Zaalbar.
"You will take us to Chuundar," Bastila said, pressing harder against the wookiee's will. Finally, she felt the warrior wilt.
((I will take you to Chuundar)) he growled distractedly.
"That Force trick thing is really cool," Mission whispered.
"Thank you, Mission," Bastila replied.
"Helpful Observation: it would have been simpler to shoot the hirsute creature, master… and far quicker."
Everyone ignored the sullen droid.
((()))
The village was essentially a large platform, suspended from interwoven tree limbs, that had grown together into a fairly stable mesh, but there were occasional gaps large enough that outsiders couldn't grow complacent, lest they accidentally step through. Wookiees, who had much larger feet, did not have this problem.
There were multiple levels of rough huts, most lashed together, but a few were actually carved into the massive wroshyr trees' massive branches. Several wookiees approached, and took the dead wookiee from Zaalbar, before disappearing into a nearby hut.
They were led to the center of the sprawling village, where a long hut had been carved from a branch that thrust up through the walkway.
The guard angrily ushered them inside.
((Step forward and address mighty and wise Chuundar, outsiders.)) a wookiee herald commanded.
Zaalbar saw the men wearing Czerka uniforms on either side of the throne.
((You are flanked by Czerka slavers! Are they not outsiders? Or have you sold all of Kashyyyk to them!)) Zaalbar demanded, pointing at the nervous humans. Kyle wondered if the understood the native language… or if all they heard were snarls and barks.
A wookiee wearing ornamental necklaces of some kind sat in the throne. Even to Bastila, he did not look quite as… massive… as wookiee norm.
((Ah, brother Zaalbar. You've been exiled a long time. You shouldn't speak in that tone. Things are different now)) the chieftain said. HK-47 whispered translations to the others in the group.
((You are a mad-claw without honor. You have no voice among your own people. I, on the other hand, am Chieftain)) Chuundar said smugly.
((You've made deals with slavers. The truth will get out eventually)) Zaalbar snarled.
((You may talk, but no one will believe you. I've had a long time to guide what my people think. They trust me, the mighty Chuundar. Even with my brother insane and father enslaved, I rose to protect my people despite it all)) Chuundar sneered.
((Father was enslaved? "Mighty Chuundar?" What are you talking about? You were the runt!)) Zaalbar scoffed.
Chuundar sprang from his throne, ((I am no runt!)) he roared, losing his air of cold superiority. Zaalbar bared his teeth mockingly, and Chuundar slowly returned to his throne, ((Like I said, Zaalbar, much has changed in your years away. We will discuss this soon enough.))
Chuundar slowly looked away from his brother, eyeing the outsiders assembled before him. He did not miss the fact that they were still armed.
((You are irrelevant)) the chieftain said, waving dismissively at them.
"I disagree," one of the outsiders barked, coolly raising his blaster.
((You understand our tongue?)) Chuundar asked, mildly impressed.
"Enough," the armored man spat.
((And what do you think you will accomplish?)) Chuundar asked, lazily gesturing to the blaster.
((The village believes in me. They would rise to kill you, if you fired)) the runt chuckled.
"Perhaps," the man agreed coldly, "But you'd still be dead… and that sounds like a good trade to me."
A small alien girl also had a blaster, scaled to her size, pointed at Chuundar, "Let's just shoot the core slime, and get Zaalbar out of here,"
"Assessment: we could neutralize all enemy organics in this room within nineteen seconds. Probability of a target escaping to summon reinforcements calculated at sixty-two point nine percent."
Interesting.
((And why would you do this?)) Chuundar asked.
"I'm not going to leave a friend behind, not to the likes of you," the man said in disgust.
((Then I offer you a compromise)) Chuundar suggested.
The armored man shrugged.
((Complete a task for me, and I will let you all go free)) Chuundar promised.
"And Zaalbar?" a female human asked.
((He will remain with me until you return from your task… an incentive, if you will)) Chuundar said.
The woman looked at the armored man, "He's not lying."
"What task?" the armored man asked cautiously.
((A simple thing. Another Wookiee has suffered the same fate as Zaalbar, gone mad and been exiled. He now lurks the Shadowlands. More importantly, he's pestering my Czerka allies during their Shadowland expeditions. It is not good for business)) Chuundar said.
"He's standing against you? The first of many, perhaps?" the woman suggested.
((No one will follow a mad-claw. He is merely a nuisance. Besides, he cowers in the Shadowlands. My people know nothing of him)) Chuundar snorted.
Slowly the armored man lowered his weapon.
((Excellent choice. My hunters will show you where to begin your hunt)) Chuundar said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
((()))
"We can't just leave him there!" Mission whispered.
"We're not," Bastila assured her.
"But…" Mission protested.
"We'll get him back," Carth said quietly.
A large wookiee appeared before them, ((Chuundar has commanded that I grant you access to the Shadowlands. Gorwooken is what I am called))
((()))
In the darkness, a man moved with easy silence. A giant spider-like creature noticed him, and reared back to strike, but with hardly a flicker of effort, the man waved a hand, and the creature promptly ignored its prey, allowing him to pass unmolested.
His robes were made of the hide of several native creatures, after his own robes had disintegrated from years of hard wear. A tach monkey spotted him, and shadowed the man, chirping for scraps.
"Go away, Feor. I don't have anything for you," the man chuckled. Strapped to his back was a crude machete, essentially a sharpened piece of half meter durasteel, cut from the hull of his crashed starship, with a leather wrap handle, the leather darkened by the oil of his hand, and years of use.
The man felt a ripple in the air, and paused. Something was coming.
((()))
"I have a few questions, Gorwooken," Bastila said.
((Chuundar said nothing of answering your questions. Be brief)) the warrior said levelly as they walked.
"What do you think of Czerka?"
The wookiee snorted, as if expelling an unpleasant scent from his nostrils, ((They have made Chuundar strong, so we are all stronger, but I do not like them. They are small and hide behind armor. They would not survive the Shadowlands as a true Wookiee. They are not worthy to be there, but Chuundar wills it))
They reached a strange basket contraption, but it was easily three meters in diameter.
"Uh… I don't think we're all going to fit…" Carth observed.
((A half dozen warriors may ride within, you are small, you will fit)) Gorwooken replied.
"Has anyone else been allowed down recently?" Bastila asked, wondering at the integrity of the vines.
((The journeys of my people are very personal. I won't speak of them to an outsider)) Gorwooken refused.
"Very well, but have any outsiders been allowed down recently?" Bastila asked.
((For reasons I do not know, Chuundar allows those of the Czerka to move in the Shadowlands. They kill much)) Gorwooken said bitterly.
((And there is another, but he has earned respect. He does not disturb our lives or customs. And he gets angry like a Wookiee sometimes. His name hurts my tongue. He has lived alone in the Shadowlands for many years now))
"Just unlock the thing, and lower us down," Canderous snapped irritably.
((The descent is long. Be still, or we will attract... unwelcome visitors)) the wookiee warned.
The group climbed into the woven bark basket, one at a time, helping the next to enter. The vine creaked ominously, but did not break. Gorwook scoffed at their apprehension, and climbed in last. He reached overhead, and pulled on a crude brake, which began to lower them slowly, perhaps half a meter per second, Carth estimated.
Bastila crouched, crammed next to Canderous and Kyle, and met eyes with Juhani. She touched her apprentice's mind, and in unison, both Jedi closed their eyes, and retreated inward.
Juhani opened her eyes in her master's center, noting the pillars that bore the Jedi code upon them.
"Master, I have tried, many times, but so far have been unsuccessful in creating my center," Juhani confessed.
Bastila sat next to her, and looked as still as their environment.
"It is not a creation Juhani, it is the opposite, in fact. This a place where nothing exists," Bastila tried to explain.
"But I see the pillars. I see you, I see the ground," Juhani said, confused.
"Do you?" Bastila asked cryptically.
"Yes," Juhani said, frustrated.
"Do not worry. It took me a very long time to find this place…" Bastila assured her.
"Yes master," Juhani sighed.
They sat together quietly, meditating.
"Master?" Juhani said tentatively.
"Yes, apprentice?" Bastila asked.
"I never apologized for the way I acted towards you before, in the grove."
"You thought the dark side had consumed you," Bastila said gently.
"But it must be said, I am sorry for attacking you. I am sorry for thinking you would only try to kill me," Juhani said.
"Do not worry, Juhani. I forgive you," Bastila assured her apprentice.
"Thank you... It is most reassuring to know that you can forgive me, even though I tried to take your life," Juhani said seriously… sounding too old for her years. Bastila estimated the Cathar was only sixteen.
They sat in silence for a while, before Bastila asked, "Why are your thoughts so hostile towards Canderous?"
"I am wary of the Mandalorian. I do not trust him," Juhani said truthfully. Which was unfortunate, considering the confines of the basket had her pressed up against the armored man.
"I am suspicious as well," Bastila said.
"They drove my parents from Cathar, aided the Sith and attacked the Republic. Their warped notions of 'honor' may provoke them to do even more heinous acts," the teenager rationalized.
"I do not know why you tolerate his presence on your ship. In truth, he has had some merit so far, but I am not certain it is worth the risk you take," Juhani said, worried.
"You're right. Perhaps we should eliminate him," Bastila said, testing the Cathar.
"Eliminate? What? I never proposed to murder the man!" Juhani yelped.
"Why not?" Bastila asked, and Juhani realized her master was debating with her, and relaxed, "His kind may prove to be a danger to the galaxy again, but this man himself has proven acceptable so far. We should merely keep our distance from him and watch him, so that he does not betray us," Juhani said.
"Have you spoken to him of this?" Bastila asked.
"Spoken to him? No! No, I could not," Juhani shivered, "Mandalorians are vicious of temper and easily provoked. I... I would not want to tempt his wrath."
"You speak from experience?" Bastila asked.
"I am sorry. It is just that I cannot stand to be around him for very long. I suppose I do not really dislike him, it is just..."
"Just?"
"The Mandalorians came and overran my world, they slaughtered my race... I cannot forget what they have done. Or forgive," Juhani admitted, and Bastila found the kernel of darkness she had sensed in her apprentice's thoughts.
"Hatred and fear lead to the dark side, Juhani," Bastila reminded her.
"You are right, of course. You always seem to know what you speak of," Juhani sighed, "This simmering anger and hatred for the Mandalorians seems to have found a place in my heart, though. Sometimes, I worry..."
"If you stray from the path, I will find you, and lead you back," Bastila assured her.
"But... I thank you for your kind words. It is hard being alone all the time," Juhani whispered.
"You fear and worry about all of the harm you might do, that you forget to do good," Bastila advised.
Juhani nodded, and both fell silent once more… but a question burned in her, and Bastila sighed, "What is it, apprentice?"
"Why do you fear Kyle?" Juhani asked, curious.
Bastila knew, that in this place, her apprentice would be able to sense a lie… so Bastila spoke only the truth… from a certain point of view.
"He has suffered greatly in these wars… and he possesses such power. I fear he may lose his way, and give in to the darkness he carries," Bastila said.
"You do not fear what he may do to others, you fear for him," Juhani insisted.
"It is… complicated," Bastila sighed, and would not be drawn out further on the subject.
And to her surprise, Bastila realized it truly was complicated.
((()))
As the basket continued to descend, Kyle did a quick calculation in his head. If they were four kilometers above the ground, and the basket descended at 0.5 meters per second, then that was 8000 seconds, divided by 60 seconds, then 60 minutes, it would take them… 2.22 hours to reach the ground.
Kyle isolated Canderous's helmet comlink, so that they could talk without alerting any nearby predators, "Hey Canderous, have any interesting stories you haven't told me yet?"
"You want to hear tales of my exploits? Of the wars I've seen and fought, the enemies I've seen die by my hand? Heh, sure, I'll humor you," the bigger man chuckled.
Kyle settled back. This sounded like it was going to be good.
((()))
The man of the Shadowlands moved hastily through the dark paths, led by a sixth sense he had long cultivated, and trusted in this world where no light shone. He did not see with his eyes, after all. Someone was coming. Someone who would bring great change… but the man did not know for good, or ill. So much was uncertain.
((()))
They had two close calls, when something approached the basket in the dark. Kyle's IR showed him glimpses of something vaguely spider-like, but it kept to the denser brush, preventing him from seeing it properly, and although he tightened his grip on his weapons, the wookiee guide did not seem unduly concerned. Hell, it was probably considered a prey animal.
Carth pulled the IR goggles from his jacket, and slipped them over his eyes. He had three spare power cells for them, and the goggles would last for roughly twenty hours per cell.
Kyle even drifted off to sleep… he woke when they landed with a soft lurch.
((Prepare yourselves, for these are the Shadowlands, where few tread, and fewer return)) Gorwooken growled very softly. The group climbed out of the basket, and Gorwooken set the hand brake, to prevent it from returning to the surface.
((This is as far as I will go. The rest of the task remains to you. Find the madclaw, kill him, and bring back his head. I will return in three days)) with that, the wookiee released the brake, and the basket began to rise at the same rate it had descended.
((()))
Kyle kept his gaze constantly moving. He'd been in jungles similar to this, but always with a clear objective, usually attacking a fixed installation behind enemy lines, or hitting targets of opportunity. How were they supposed to find a wookiee in all of this, especially if it didn't want to be found?
"Commander?" Kyle whispered.
Bastila stretched out her awareness, and was staggered by the vast amount of life forms that lived in this place of darkness.
None of them were sentient however. She shook her head.
"I'm picking up a comm. unit," Kyle said, startled. He blinked at several symbols on his HUD, calling up the feed.
"It looks like a distress signal," he said. Automated, no audio, standard format.
"Chuundar said the wookiee was attacking his Czerka slavers. Who else would have a comlink down here?" Carth whispered.
"We have three days, it is as good a place to start as any," Bastila agreed.
Kyle pinpointed the direction of the broadcast, and took point. By unspoken agreement, HK-47 took rearguard, and the Jedi spaced themselves among the rest of the group, constantly scanning for hostile intent.
Although as Carth had found out, their senses weren't fool proof.
((()))
Juhani did not like these lands. They were wrong. It was not exactly the darkside… but it felt similar, on a much subtler scale. Her hackles stood on end, and she felt her lips drawn back subconsciously in a constant snarl.
It was hard to focus the Force here.
((()))
Kyle felt the instinctive urge to hurry his pace, to run, but training and experience kept his pace at a steady walk. He had no experience with the warning signs of Kashyyyk's native predators or dangers, and hurrying would shave only minutes off the time it took to reach the objective, balanced against the distinct possibility of injury or death. He could feel Carth behind him, chafing at the bit.
Kyle did not like this terrain. There was no wind here, and hardly any noise. Occasionally something would shriek, before being cut off. There was life here, but mostly death. The foliage consisted of hanging lichen and moss, or other fungi that did not require light to grow. An attack could come from any direction however; something that always concerned the commando, ever since Dxun… but that jungle hell was nothing like this place. On Dxun, everything there was busy eating everything else, mating, and repeating the cycle. No stealth, just ferocity. Here… in these Shadowlands… he knew he was being stalked, but whatever was doing it would wait for the opportune time to pounce, and kill him. It was the waiting, the suspense that the man found disconcerting. On Dxun, there had been a certain rhythm. Three steps, then strike at the leaping predator. Three more steps, then duck beneath the leaping Maalras. Three more steps, and hurdle the charging Boma. Three more steps, and kick the startled Cannock in the face. Kyle was exaggerating… but only a little.
((()))
They found the campsite, and the transmitter. The commando used his toys to check for traps and explosives, while Canderous waited impatiently, keeping an eye on their surroundings.
"It's clear," Kyle whispered, tucking his sensor away.
Whatever had occurred here had happened fairly recently. Kyle inspected the device sitting on a tripod in the center of the camp.
"It's a sonic emitter of some kind, but it is Czerka manufacture," Kyle reported. Something had hit the emitter hard enough to shatter the duraplast casing, and break the delicate internal components.
"It's nonfunctional," he added.
"Clearly," Bastila observed.
"I bet the emitter was to keep things with teeth away…" Carth muttered. There were splashes of dried blood, which showed up as a darker shade of grey on the goggles, but no bodies. Bedrolls had been torn apart, only a set of durasteel carry-packs remained, near the emitter. Also no sign of blasters or weapons.
"I found the transmitter," Mission said, pulling a comlink out from a tangle of cloth.
Something large erupted from behind a screen of moss, and smashed into HK-47, throwing the droid against a nearby tree. Canderous had a fleeting impression of scales and teeth as he spun to face the attack, before he was carried to the ground. Blaster fire slammed into the creature, which yelped, but otherwise made no sound, trying to quickly overwhelm the wily mercenary. Canderous activated his flamethrower, and fed it some fire.
HK-47 felt a brief moment of mortification, as it fought to aim its blaster rifle at the creature, hampered by the literally clinging vines. The creature's ambient temperature had only been two degrees higher than the environment. In the brief second before the attack, that temperature had increased by twenty degrees. An ambush predator that employed some form of hibernation to avoid detection by creatures sensitive to thermal signatures, HK concluded. Unfortunately, thermal recognition accounted for nearly sixty-seven percent of HK's visual sensors…
While the droid was considering this, he was also fighting to extricate himself from the adhesive lichen the spindly meatbag had thrown him into. The strands were quite strong, HK decided, but a sharp object is still a sharp object…
When he stood, he had acquired a camouflage coating of the native fauna. HK suspected the secretions were acidic in nature, and might mar the paint of his armor plating, but preliminary information discounted any long term reduction of his lethality, while granting him a possible advantage in avoiding detection. He would keep the coating… for now. Later though, the services of the mandalorian's flamethrower might be required.
The giant six-legged lizard screamed, and bounded off into the darkness, flames licking from its mouth, making it look like a mythical dragon almost.
"What the hell was that?" Carth demanded.
"Something hungry," Mission commented.
"So… the emitter failed, and that thing ate the people?" Carth suggested.
"Not unless it can throw rocks," Kyle said, showing a stone the size of his fist, with bits of duraplast melted to it, and scorched from the overloaded circuits.
"Not everyone died in the camp," Juhani said, peering at the dirt.
Kyle came to stand next to the teenager. Someone wearing only one boot had fled from the campsite.
"Shall we follow?" Kyle asked his commander.
Bastila nodded.
Kyle touched the knife on his harness, and shouldered his rifle. Juhani took point, focusing on tracking the unfortunate creature.
((()))
The man stood on a branch, watching the interlopers press forward into the Shadowlands, following the trail of a dead man. They didn't look like Czerka's typical puppets. A tach landed on his shoulder, and watched as well.
"What do you want, Faceless?" the man asked.
"Once again you lay me bare," the diminutive monkey chuckled in a voice too deep for it.
"And you took Feor's form because?" the man sighed.
"I knew it would hurt you," the tach gloated.
"Good for you. Anything else?" the man said, uninterested.
"No, that was all," the shapeshifter sneered, disappearing into the darkness.
The man had tried many times over the years to kill the shapeshifter, even as it had tried to kill him. After ten years of such nonsense, they had come to an understanding of sorts. It couldn't fool him with its tricks, and he couldn't kill it with his skills. So they simply agreed to disagree, and tormented each other indirectly.
But these newcomers… they interested the man… which meant Faceless would probably try to snatch them away. The man decided to wait and see. He'd done so for twenty years, why change now?
((()))
The trail was destroyed by clawed foot prints, and Juhani could smell dried blood.
"I do not believe the man survived," she whispered.
Bastila could sense Kyle's agitation, as he constantly scanned above and behind.
"What's wrong?" Bastila whispered.
"We're being hunted," Kyle said grimly.
"I don't sense anything," Bastila said.
"This trail, it's wrong," Kyle insisted.
"What do you mean?" Bastila asked.
Kyle couldn't figure it out, but something about the tracks wasn't right. He really wished Zaalbar was here… Kyle stared at the marks, hard, but the answer eluded him.
"Observation: unless this meatbag had two left feet, these tracks are indeed a fabrication," HK-47 said, his vocabulator set to minimal levels.
Something giggled in the darkness overhead. Kyle ducked away from a pair of falling shapes, he ignored them after determining they weren't dangerous, and snapped his gaze up, searching the impenetrable canopy.
Carth took a closer look at the objects and shuddered. One was a man's left boot. The other, the foot that should have gone in it, gnawed off at the knee.
"This is not good," he said grimly.
Bastila still couldn't sense anything.
"It's toying with us," Canderous said angrily. He didn't like being toyed with.
"I'm picking up another comlink signal," Kyle said grimly, looking to Bastila.
"Let's go…" she said tensely.
((()))
This camp had also been hit by something hungry, its sonic emitter damaged by a rock.
"It appears Czerka tech is not very durable," Bastila observed.
"Confirmation: Czerka is cheap and efficient… best used for jury-rigging traps and explosives that are meant as disposable distractions. MerrSonn is a much better choice for lethal traps and devices," HK-47 informed her.
The attack was sudden, swift, and eerily silent. Several large reptilian creatures erupted from the dirt where they had buried themselves. Bastila's lightsaber scythed into the hungry creatures, and Juhani let loose a barking roar, not dissimilar to a pouncing tusk-cat.
Canderous smashed ord'ika into one of the lizards, knocking it away from its intended target: the twi'lek, and stomped on its snout, pinning it to the dirt for the seconds needed to tear its head apart with a burst from his weapon. These were only half the size of the thing Ordo had lit on fire, but they were faster, and more numerous.
Kyle snapped the butte of his blaster rifle into a lizard's jaw, and pumped several blaster bolts into its chest, dropping the creature. Another creature latched onto his right forearm, its teeth sinking into the plastoid a few millimeters, the sudden weight almost dragging him down. Kyle snatched out his knife, and quickly gutted the lizard-thing from throat to hips. Unfortunately, it died, without letting go.
Then a barrage of blaster fire slammed into the lizards from the side, and within short order, the few surviving creatures fled into the trees.
"Who the hell are you?" a man demanded, wearing mud splattered armor, designed to withstand physical attacks, rather than energy based weaponry, though it was painted in similar pattern and color to the uniform of a Czerka patrol captain, "and where's the rest of my men?" the captain said, gesturing to the campsite. The other four Czerka guards had durasteel packs on their backs, and one carried what appeared to be a portable sonic emitter.
"We don't know," Bastila said honestly.
"You'll have to do better than that," the captain snarled, raising his blaster rifle.
"Something is hunting your men, captain," Bastila told him.
"Something is always hunting us in this damned place," the captain retorted.
"We detected an automated distress beacon, and investigated. Something took out their sonic emitter, and it looked like predators swarmed them. Then we detected the beacon from this camp," Kyle explained.
"We haven't been able to raise Gamma or Delta team," the captain said grimly, lowering his blaster.
"Whatever it is, it's smart enough to break your emitters with rocks, and it led us off with false tracks," Carth said.
The captain glanced back at his men.
"Damn it…" he sighed.
"Captain, Chuundar sent us down here to apprehend a madclaw, who is harassing your people. Could this be related?" Bastila asked.
"Chuundar? He's that pet wookiee who keeps the primitives in line…" the captain said in realization.
"What are you doing down here?" Carth asked, curious.
"Tach glands. They sell for nearly a hundred credits apiece," the captain explained.
"Where's Sims?" one of the guards yelped, and everyone turned to look at him.
One of the guards was missing.
"Who's Sims?" Carth asked.
"He had our sonic emitter!" the captain spat.
Something rustled in the moss nearby, and a man stepped out,
"Whoa, geeze!" he yelped, dropping his blaster and crouching, raising his hands.
"Sims, what the hell were you doing?" the captain barked.
"Sorry, captain, I had to… well, uh…" the man stammered.
"Sims… have you been hitting the spice again?" the captain asked in a quietly dangerous voice.
"No… well, just a little, to take the edge off!" the man protested.
"Give it to me," the captain said, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, the man pulled an opaque cylinder from his belt pouch and slapped it in his captain's hand. The captain promptly pocketed the drug.
"If we weren't so short-handed I'd shoot you. Do you understand?" the captain threatened calmly. Bastila sensed that the words were true.
"Y-yes sir!" the man gasped.
"And pick up your damned weapon," the captain hissed.
"Come on men, we'll collect Gamma team's tach glands, then we're getting the hell out of here," the captain said, distributing the durasteel carry packs from the camp among his men. "Captain…" Bastila said, warningly.
"What?" the man sneered.
"Don't stop to rest. Your sonic emitter will not protect you from whatever hunts here," Bastila said softly.
The man began to snap something, but he realized she was sincere.
So instead, he nodded gruffly. The poachers departed in short order.
"We need a new strategy," Canderous said bluntly.
"This isn't working," Carth agreed.
"I should have detected those animals," Bastila said, worried.
"Extrapolation: these particular meatbags appear to have some form of hibernation, until they detect nearby prey. It is possible that there was nothing for you to sense… until they attacked, of course, master," HK offered.
"We'll never find the madclaw at this rate," Mission sighed.
"We'll get Zaalbar back," Carth assured her.
"How?" Mission demanded.
"By force, if necessary," Kyle promised quietly.
"You look a little lost," a voice observed, and the Jedi ignited their weapons, shedding light on a man in black leather robes, with a hood that covered all but his mouth from the lightsaber's glare.
"Who are you?" Bastila demanded, probing at the man with the Force, but she couldn't sense him, similar to Calo Nord, her attempts slipped off. No… wait. Bastila continued to probe the sensation in the Force. It was almost like an oil slick, she supposed… and it was exactly like Calo Nord.
"I'm just an old man, who's been lost in the woods too long. Follow me to my camp and we'll talk a bit," the figure shrugged.
"Should we trust him?" Carth asked.
"There's only one of him. If he proves a threat, I'm sure we can handle him," Canderous pointed out.
"Look, you can follow me or stumble around on your own, but I'm too old to babysit you," the man snorted, and turned, walking off into the darkness. A lightsaber was clipped to his belt.
After a moment's hesitation, Bastila followed.
"So you'll follow the crazy old man," the hooded figured chuckled, "Keep close then."
((()))
The camp turned out to be a crashed freighter. Most of the ship was mangled and crushed beyond recognition by the trees, but the boarding ramp was still intact, which the old man lowered for them, shooing them inside. Apparently the only space intact was the cargo hold, which the old man had turned into a home of sorts.
The ramp rose with a dull whine, until the old man irritably stamped on a section of it, and the whine grew quieter.
"Damned monkey," he grumbled. He flicked on a halo lamp, which illuminated the hold, and with relief, the group was able to see in color again.
"Well, welcome to my home, such as it is. Pull up a stump and be comfortable. We should discuss a few things," the old man sighed, sitting down in a hammock made from cargo netting.
"Yes, I feel there is much you can tell me," Bastila said respectfully, though in reality, she was wary.
"Don't coddle me, child. I'm neither a Jedi nor your master. I'm just an old man that's been lost in the woods for far too long," the old man snorted.
"Surely there is more than that," Juhani objected.
"Ah, what is there to tell? I'm content with the impression I give," the man cackled.
"You are a Jedi. I can feel your power, and there is no taint of the darkside upon you," Bastila said. It wasn't like a normal person's, however. This was like seeing it through the rippling surface of a lake. She was fairly certain though that she couldn't see any shadows.
"I've seen my share of the dark and the light. And frankly, both extremes annoy me. Of course... I have felt the rumblings of change…" the man said cryptically.
"It's kind of nice to meet a Jedi who isn't all hung up on this light side, dark side stuff. It gets pretty tiring, you know?" Mission said.
"Well, I assure you, I see more grey than dark or light. I'm just a stubborn old man, tired of the foolishness of others," the man sighed irritably.
An awkward silence fell as everyone looked at the possibly senile, likely dangerous rogue Jedi.
"We both know why you have come here. The Star Map. That has to be it. There is nothing else here," the man said, "The problems of a few Wookiees don't amount to anything before the concerns of the Jedi. No, you are here for the map."
"If you have information, please tell it to us," Bastila requested.
"Wait wait wait, slow down. I have to ask something of you. I've got something you need, and you can help me," the man said, waving off her request impatiently.
"I'm honored to help someone of your experience," Bastila said respectfully.
"Oh, save it. I know this sounds absurd, but I'm old and entitled to work you around a bit. Besides, the task is simple. There's a shapeshifter out there, you've already met it," the man said.
"The one who made the false trail?" Juhani asked.
"That'd be the one," the man agreed, "It doesn't respect this place; butchering wildlife, threatening entire species… and it's getting under my skin, mishandle my garden, will it?" the man said in annoyance.
"I see… So the aged semi-Jedi wants us to get some kid off his lawn," Carth sighed.
"Yes, yes, I'm an old man that's getting fussy. Call me foolish if you will, I don't care. You still have to help me do it," the man grinned.
"Why not just go get rid of it yourself?" Canderous asked.
"Don't talk back to your elders, kid. Look, it knows me quite well, and is always on alert when I approach," the old man explained.
"Why have you exiled yourself here?" Bastila asked.
"Why? Don't you like what I've done with the place? The creatures here aren't any more treacherous than elsewhere," the old man shrugged.
"Zaalbar's running out of time," Mission piped up.
"Very well. We will assist you," Bastila promised.
"Good. We need to find those poachers," the old man said, jumping to his feet.
"Why?" Bastila asked suspiciously.
"You'll see," the old man chuckled.
((()))
Captain Obradae ran through the forest, his IR goggles turning everything into a nightmarish stream of black and white images. He'd tossed his packs as he ran, fleeing the thing that hunted him. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be—
A fist smashed into the fleeing man's chest, throwing him against a tree with rib breaking force.
"Captain," Sims said pleasantly in a deep bass, casually flicking Obradae's carbine out of reach with his foot.
"What are you?" Obradae gasped, blood flecking his lips.
The man picked up Obradae by his hair, easily lifting him aloft.
"I'm complicated," Sims said simply. He smirked, revealing serrated teeth that no human had ever possessed, and tore out the captain's throat.
This was fun.
((()))
"Huh. I guess Faceless was a little impatient…" the man observed, glancing at the broken bodies of the Czerka mercenaries.
"The spice addict. That was the shape shifter?" Bastila asked.
"Yep. He was lighting up alright… but Faceless got him, and impersonated him,"
"He was so convincing though…"
"Near as I can tell, he really does assume the physical body of his victims, it's not an illusion, and he can absorb some of his victim's memories…" the man explained.
"Is it natural ability or alien technology?" Canderous asked.
"Does it matter?" the man grunted.
"Master, I am uncomfortable leaving the others behind in the ship," Juhani said, worried.
"Captain Onasi and the others will be fine. We are the ones in danger," Bastila assured her.
"Observation: the young female master is safer in the derelict freighter and under guard then if we brought her along," HK-47 pointed out.
"Besides, it has to kill in order to assume a new shape," the old man grunted.
Wrong, old man… dead wrong.