A pair of sneaks

- Jen Sahara -

Panic was gnawing at the edges of my control. I strode away from the crash site, eyes searching dark corners and darker courtyards up ahead.

"You locked him in the escape pod?" Mission squeaked behind me. I was glad she'd joined us, somehow her presence made it easier for me to stay calm. She follows me for now; I must be strong. While the focusing trick Zelka suggested had helped, it only subdued my inner turmoil. The rogue emotions were still there, deep in a distant corner of my mind; a mingled fear and fury I could ignore but not entirely forget.

"Seemed like a good idea. He doesn't have time for us to move him to a safer place."

The entire Undercity felt like it had a presence all of its own. Dark, cloying, decaying. If I hadn't seen Zelka last night, I would be mad by now. I tried to shrug off that thought. I must stay rational. Onasi needs me, Mission needs me. When did I become the strong one? Jen was the very antithesis of strength, whereas Evil Bitch... well, it was obvious she used terror as her strength.

It's the real me again, isn't it? The flashback I'd had earlier was about more than just a game. I'd elevated my psyche to a detached state, where my entire focus was on the puzzle unfolding in front of me, allowing no peripheral thoughts or emotional distractions to filter through. That's a Force trick. Somehow, I was sure of that. Was I some sort of trainee Jedi? I'd thought I'd been a street kid. Maybe I had. Maybe that boy taught me how to use the Force.

But the last few times I'd touched it I'd lost control. It was hard to ignore the power out there, all around me. At times, it felt like it wanted to be used.

Jen's voice was quieter now. Ever since the ambush on the Endar Spire, it seemed like her core personality was no more than a fading whisper in my mind, a nexus of thoughts and feelings slowly dispersing into shadows. In her place, I had grown in strength and dominance. As had Evil Bitch.

And yet, Jen's childhood memories were still there. Daydreams of quietly teaching ancient archaeology to eager students, and living out a peaceful existence amongst rural farmland. Some of her studies had actually been fascinating, in particular her research on civilizations that pre-dated Republic times.

Yet… Jen wasn't an expert. There was no logical explanation for the Jedi to specifically request only her along for a secret expedition. Headed by Bastila Shan, a key Jedi involved in the Republic war effort. I'd forgotten those details about Bastila, until Carth had dropped them like a thermal detonator earlier. Battle meditation. Her defeat of Darth Revan. Sharp pain had stabbed deep into my temple when he'd said the words. I wondered if that'd always be the case, when recollections I'd once known slammed back into my consciousness.

My intuition flat out said these symptoms were due to Force damage – somehow. Due to my unwanted bond-sister – somehow.

Focus, Jen. I had no other name for myself. Fix Onasi, rescue Bastila, then split. Break it up into simple objectives, and get the job done.

Movement up ahead caught my attention. I stopped walking, and aimed both blasters in determination. I was glad I'd the enough foresight to relieve Carth of his weaponry before shutting him inside the pod.

I heard a click beside me. Mission, stealthed again. Who'd have thought a stealth belt – rare, and generally not worth the credits – would be so useful in the Undercity?

We held our ground as the rakghoul lumbered towards us. At least there's only one. I wasn't sure if I could handle another group of four – and this time, without Carth's help.

I waited tensely until the creature came within range, and then started firing. Mission followed suit, and the monster soon dropped with a piercing shriek.

"I normally just hide from them," Mission whispered. "The sewers aren't far, and our 'scanners show us where they are."

She doesn't like killing despite growing up in a gang, I realized. Somehow, living on the streets had not yet eroded a naive innocence that was at the Twi'lek's core.

"Hiding's good, in case something happens to me," I said calmly. Why am I so calm? So detached, so logical? Battle rage usually takes over by this point. Going berserk right now would kill me. "But I really need your help."

"You mean it, don't you?" The startled tone in Mission's voice took me by surprise. "I don't know if anyone's ever said that to me before."

I looked at the girl, reconsidering her abilities. Sure, she was young, and probably too impulsive, but her street skills alone made her a worthy ally. I gave her a quick smile, one I hoped would be taken as reassuring.

Walking closer to the rakghoul corpse, I checked it quickly for life signs. Dead. The mutated head was scorched with fatal blaster shots, and gluey white eyes stared back at me. I shivered, and then my gaze caught on another body nearby. Not a rakghoul. No, that's a Human. I ran over to it, almost tripping in my haste. But searching the second corpse availed little.

"A medpac and a data-journal," I murmured, clicking on the datapad. It mentioned something about a Promised Land, and I remembered that crazy old geezer, Rukil, ranting after me in the Outcast Village. Just another chance for Onasi to bust a gut laughing at me, I thought sourly. Sod it all, I will find that serum!

"Before you ran back to the village, did you happen across any dead Sith?" I asked Mission as I stood, walking away from the corpses.

"Not today," she answered, hurrying to keep up. "But the bodies are usually stripped clean anyway. D'ya really think they'll have serum on them?"

"I-" I don't really want to answer that. "I have to try. Blaster Boy saved my life."

Mission blinked before giggling weakly at the pet name. I smiled at her, but my heart wasn't in it.

"We could look up north, I've seen patrols round there before," she offered. I nodded to her, and we set off again.

Corpses littered the area, mostly half-eaten. I forced myself to frisk all the bodies we came across, but with each fruitless search I was becoming more disheartened. The smell of the place curled like bile in my stomach. No time to be sick. No time to be angry!

We managed to avoid a number of nearby rakghoul groups by skirting alongside rubble or broken walls. I was starting to get a feel for predicting the mutated monsters - they stuck to open areas, and usually huddled in groups of three or four. Their primary long-range sense appeared to be visible movement, and by silently sneaking within the shadows of dilapidated framework, our progress remained unhindered.

I was dimly aware that Onasi's time was running out. Part of me was panicking, scared and afraid he would die. Another side was demanding coldly that I return and kill him before he transformed. I scowled, and instead focused on the bleak landscape.

"There's some bodies up ahead, looks like Sith armour," Mission whispered, stealing back my attention.

"Good spotting," I murmured back, and she smiled brightly at me. She's not often encouraged, is she? I knew the girl was struggling to hold her own fear at bay; panic for her friend, anxiety for the environment we were in.

"We'll find the serum, Mission. And then we'll rescue Zaalbar," I said staunchly, heading over to the bodies. I could almost feel her spine stiffen in renewed resolve. Why bother with trite, meaningless words? Fear is a better motivator. I blocked the thought out, but could not dissipate my edginess. Realization of my own mortality was setting in – if Carth could go down so easily to the rakghouls, then so could I. Why am I wasting time helping a Republic pilot that could mutate into a threat? His true loyalty is not with me; his value as a tool is almost nothing. But he had saved me, and I could not – would not – leave him to die.

Fool. Attachments lead to vulnerability, to a weakness that can be exploited.

The edges of my calm unravelled; I could feel my emotions starting to spiral out of control. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes briefly and recalled the vision I'd had yesterday. A board covered in rune stones; the Coruscanti Staff rune was in the front, vulnerable on it's left flank, but the potential for offense was there. A gap in the opponent's line of attack – if I moved the Corellian Dagger forward, I'd be able to break right through.

The voice dimmed to a barely audible whisper. I opened my eyes, pursed my lips, and strode forward.

Mission was right; the corpses were Sith, and hope flared in my belly. I ripped off the tattered armour quickly, checking the pockets as I did so.

"Cool, an energy shield!" Mission was searching the second corpse. I found a handful of credits, and a shot of kolto, but no serum. Sithspit. I need this!

Mission stood, indicating she was finished, and shot me a despairing look. We were thinking the same: Carth's time is running out.

But ahead... ahead, was a sentient-sized lump resting motionless next to a darkened wall.

Walking closer, with my weapon gripped tight, the lump slowly morphed into the recognizable shape of a humanoid: seated, slumped, with armoured hands resting limply in its lap.

Rakghoul damage along the body's recognizable black armour became noticeable as I took another step closer.

"Another Sith corpse," I said in relief, crouching down next to the once-sentient.

A hand shot up towards me; quick, hard and fast. It slammed into my throat, armoured fingers grasping hard on my windpipe. "Not a corpse!" a voice rasped.

Shock sparked through me like wildfire. It was followed immediately by hot rage as the enemy hand tightened enough to cut off oxygen. Kill! With a gurgled snarl, I yanked my blaster up and shot the Sith twice in the face. His plasticeel visor shattered as he shrieked, flailing backwards, and the rancid scent of melted flesh and fresh blood hit the air.

The hand dropped, and the body shuddered once before stilling.

"Are you okay?" Mission gasped, voice high-pitched and panicked.

I drew in a series of deep, shuddering breaths. Imbecile! That was too close! My throat was tender, but otherwise undamaged. He's dead. I'm okay. I'm in control. I'm not angry. But the anger was sitting there, hot and heavy in my gut, demanding an outlet.

"I'm fine," I forced out through clenched teeth. The Sith corpse was bloodied and lifeless in front of me, and yet I'd assumed it was a corpse before. With a grimace, I lifted the blaster and shot the body twice more. Mission jumped. "He just took me by surprise."

Focus. I can't let my emotions control me. Not here! With an inward wrench of concentration, I forced myself to search the fresh body. There were deep gouges cracking through the leg armour of the Sith, obvious results of a rakghoul attack. With a despairing groan, I spotted an empty hypoderm lying on the ground next to him. Just my luck. The bastard had the serum, and he's already used it.

With growing despondency, I continued to frisk the body as Mission moved closer to me.

"Imperial cred chits," she murmured, palming the plasteel tokens as I drew them out of the corpse's utility belt.

"A couple of stims," I muttered, squinting at a pair of hypoderms the Sith had also been carrying. "Hang on..." I jerked back to the empty needle I'd left on the ground, grabbing it swiftly and holding it next to the two unused ones. Slightly larger and more elongated than standard-issue stimulants, they all had an identical housing and plunger mechanism, with a matching barcode identification on the side.

These aren't stims. These aren't stims!

"Mission," I whispered in awe. "I think... I think this is the serum. The guy must have nabbed his friends' share. He used one; we have two left. Come on!" I scrabbled desperately to my feet. "This is it - let's go back to Captain Flyboy!"

Mission stood; her bright eyes shining with hope as she grinned at me. "Captain?"

"Yeah, he's a pilot," I answered, distracted, as I began to jog back the way we'd come.

"Pilot? Who are you guys?"

Sod it all. I've said too much again, haven't I? "Questions later, okay?"

The landscape passed in a blur. I broke into a sprint, stopping at corners to check what was up ahead. Mission stayed silent behind me, and the only noise I could hear was our footfalls and my own heavy breathing.

Luck or good fortune kept us from any encounters, and I found myself breathing a heavy sigh of relief as the escape pod once more came into view.

The sense of reprieve collapsed a second later.

"The door's open," Mission whispered.

Fear iced through my veins. No, we can't be too late! I ran to the escape pod. The seat was empty. No! I'm the one who does the disappearing act, dammit! I glanced around frantically. He can't be gone, not like this!

"Jen... We have to- he could be anywhere-"

My gaze snagged on a body close by. Without thinking, I ran towards it.

Onasi. Barely breathing.

I ruthlessly jabbed the first hypoderm into his arm, emptying it. No response from him. He looked bad; the skin around his lower neck mottled to a black that wasn't natural. There was a sweet, sickly smell of festering flesh in the air.I pulled out the kolto I'd looted, and injected that into his upper shoulder. Onasi hadn't so much as twitched with the prick of either hypoderm.

Mission stood a few feet away, eyes wide on the scene. I rolled Onasi on his side, ripping off the earlier dressings before tearing into a medpac and pulling it apart. More smelly gree-bacta salve to smear on his shoulder and arm, even though I knew it would do nothing if the actual disease wasn't being countered. Should I use the second 'derm? If one isn't enough, would two be?

"Flyboy, wake up, damn you!" I cursed, kneeling down and shaking him. "I'll kill you if you're dead!"

A sudden cough racked his frame, and a second later his eyes opened. "I won't ask how you're going to achieve that," he said weakly. "What happened? I feel like I've been put through a slag grinder."

Mission laughed breathlessly. My panic dissipated, chased away by a hot relief. "How'd you get out of the escape pod?"

He blinked and looked at me in a daze. "The pod? The rakghouls! I- What are you doing back here?" He gulped, brown eyes widening in desperation. "Jen, leave here at once! I might transform!"

The surge of relief was almost painful, now.

"You're sounding better already," I said dryly, "if you're bossing me around again. Relax, Onasi, I found some serum."

He stared at me in shocked disbelief. "I, uh," he coughed weakly. "I don't dare believe you. I feel awful. Are you serious?"

I grinned. My eyes trailed to his exposed neck. Were the edges of the black mottling already beginning to fade? Carth might bemoan his pain, but there was no denying the keen awareness returning to his gaze. It's working. The serum is really working. "Yep. I saved your arse, Flyboy. We're square."

"Oh, heh." He closed his eyes again.

"We need to get you outta here, Onasi. You can rest in the outcast village," I said briskly, motioning to Mission. She nodded at me, and together we dragged the protesting Republic soldier to his feet.

xXx

Mission was stretching her shoulder in grumbling complaint. Mine felt a bit stiff from lugging Onasi back to the village as well. We'd got him walking, but he leaned heavily on us most of the way. I'm just relieved we were so close to the village. We would have been defenseless had the rakghouls attacked.

While Carth was still badly injured, the remnants of the disease seemed to have left him. He was weak and grumpy, but no longer dizzy or delirious. His injuries had reverted to a painful red colour. Much better than black.

The outcasts had been too panicked to let us in until I'd shown them the Sith serum. Even then, they'd suggested locking him up with some infected villagers. I think I'd scared Mission by threatening to behead the healer. Either way, we'd come to a compromise. Carth hadn't appreciated being tied tightly to a pole, but at least the resident healer promised to see to his injuries.

We're even now. This means I don't have to rescue Bastila. I was trying to ignore that little voice. It was the same one suggesting I sell the extra serum to Davik. I sat down against a wall with a heavy sigh. Too many things to think about. Not to mention that encounter I'd had earlier with the mercenaries.

…

"(This is not our battlefield; now is not yet our fight)," the words came out unexpectedly, in a foreign language, and I had to resist clamping my hand over my mouth in surprise. A vague recollection from the twisted archives of my mind told me that it was a traditional Mandalorian warrior's greeting. Mandalorian?

"(I have no fight with you)," the heavyset man responded. That's not the standard answer, I realized. But then, I'm not Mandalorian. "(I am Canderous Ordo)."

"(As they die upon my blade, my adversaries know me as Jen of clan Sahara)," I returned. Again, in Mandalorian format. He glared at me quizzically.

"(You intrigue me. But not enough to stay here and chitchat – the rakghouls have picked off enough of my men. Again, I'll repeat my advice: get out of here)." With an almost respectful nod, he led his men away.

…

The earlier flash of memory, back in Upper Taris... I'd recalled a handsome man, talking about the Mandalorian Wars. Did I fight in the Wars? I seem to be able to hold my own in battle, true enough. But... whose side was I on?

"Jen?" Mission's voice, tremulous and soft, disrupted my reverie.

"What's up Mission?"

"I'm worried about Big Z." She was biting her lip, her shoulders tense with worry. "We need to go after him; the Gamorreans could sell him any minute!"

"Mission, don't you think we should wait until Onasi's healed up a bit?"

He was cursing in the centre of the village. Heh, Flyboy's not used to being tied up. Obviously he hasn't been meeting the right women. Every now and then he'd turn to glare at us, but I figured he'd forgive me eventually.

"That'll take too long, Jen! Carth will probably still be too hurt tomorrow, even with kolto!"

She's right. But just the two of us, heading into the sewers? "I don't want to encounter another group of rakghouls, Mission, after what happened to Onasi. How did you and Zaalbar avoid them so easily?"

"Well-" She crouched down next to me. "The 'scanners, as I said. And often I just hid. Big Z's pretty quiet when he wants to be, y'know. People often forget he's there. Of course we couldn't always avoid 'em, but he can rip them to shreds easily enough. He- he's immune to the disease. Don't ask how we figured that one out. Look, I can't just abandon him there!"

"Fair enough." Stealth did seem to be fairly effective, and if we headed straight for the sewer entrance we wouldn't be Outside too long. If I was honest with myself, leaving now appealed to the bloodthirsty side of me. And the rational part added that it would be a good way to stop thinking. I didn't lose control with Mission out there. Well... I almost did, but I stopped myself. And surely going after Mission's friend is better than sitting here, arguing inside my own frelling head about whether I should rescue Bastila, sell the serum, or why I can speak Mandalorian.

"I know!" Mission said brightly, unclipping something from her belt. "I've got a spare stealth belt. Ever used one?" She handed it to me, and I climbed to my feet.

I felt my mouth drop open. "You have two?" I looked down at the device, and a blind sort of recognition dawned. Yes. Yes I have used these before. But stealth belts weren't common, I knew that much. Nor were they particularly useful… except in the Undercity of Taris, it seemed.

"Good thinking," I said at last. "Should be easy enough to avoid the rakghouls. Let's go, then."

She beamed at me, and we strode towards the exit. I heard Carth shouting weakly in protest behind us, but did not turn.

xXx

We slowly and silently crept through the deserted landscape, Mission leading the way towards the sewer entrance. I could barely make her out in the low visibility, and my opinion of stealth fold technology rose a notch.

It was easier to avoid the rakghouls like this, and I surprised myself by making as little noise as Mission as we snuck along. I must have grown up on the streets; I'm used to sneaking around where I'm not allowed.

Mission walked up to an open entrance in the wall, and waited for me there.

"This is the entrance we normally use," she whispered. "It comes out into a room, and I always lock the door behind me so it's safe."

"Did you lock it last time?" It was currently wide open. And, after all, she'd been pretty panicked when she'd run from her captors.

"Uh, no." She sounded sheepish. I wondered briefly if Twi'lek's could blush.

"Let me go first," I said softly, pulling a blaster from my belt.

The hole led into a small chute, and I gingerly held onto the sides to stop myself from slipping. I saw the room below; dark, dingy, but empty. I jumped the short distance down, and stood facing the exit with my blaster raised as Mission joined me.

I wrinkled my nose as my olfactory senses submerged in a stink of musty decay and rotting sewerage. "Ever get used to the smell down here?"

"Nope," she responded in the darkness. There was absolutely no light down here; I activated a light rod and passed it to Mission.

"I didn't think it could be worse than the Outside. Guess I was wrong."

She giggled softly.

We moved out, myself taking the lead as Mission gave directions. I didn't bother with the datapad map – the sewers were full of uncharted areas, and Mission was an infinitely better guide.

"So," Mission whispered as we walked down a dark corridor. She was clutching the light rod in one hand and it threw up shadows along the paper thin walls. I wondered what they were made of; it certainly wasn't plasteel. "Are you gonna tell me who you guys are? Or do I have to guess?"

Stars, I was hoping she'd forget. "Guess away, kid." I made sure to stress the last word. Let's take a leaf out of Onasi's databook, and see if this works.

"Hey, I ain't no kid!" she squawked indignantly. "Why does everyone keep calling me that?"

I grinned to myself. That's one point to Carth, I guess. "Well, you're pretty young to be on the streets by yourself, you know," I said mildly.

"I'm not that young! Far out, I've been looking out for myself for years!" she grumped, but my words had the desired effect - Mission wilted into a sulky silence, and the subject was happily dropped.

I slowed as we neared the end of the corridor, listening intently for any sounds. I could hear some grunts far in the distance, but nothing close by.

"Which direction from here?" I whispered.

"Into the big chamber up ahead, then the first door on the right. That leads down another corridor, and we were at the end of it when we got ambushed."

I nodded and took a few steps forward. The chamber looked empty as we entered it, and my eyes searched the corners. One was too dark to make anything out.

The rakghouls liked to stay outside – but Mission had left the door open when she'd escaped. I felt a sense of premonition stab in my belly, and once more let my gut instinct take over.

"Wait here," I hissed, and took a few quiet steps into the room. With the light source behind me, it took a few long seconds for my vision to adjust. This part of the sewers was obviously no longer in production otherwise we'd be wading through excrement or something equally unpleasant, but unknown rubble from previous times still littered the area. My eyes landed on the different shadows around the chamber, and one didn't look benign.

I heard a vague snuffling, and froze.

There's something there, alright. Could be asleep, could be waiting. I holstered the blaster on my belt, and slowly drew my vibrosword out. As I gingerly moved closer, the shadows transformed into a sleeping rakghoul. It must have followed someone in here. Best to kill it silently, if possible. I took another step, raised my blade with both hands, and then threw it at the slumbering body.

A cut-off wheeze. I smiled as I retrieved the weapon.

"Come on," I whispered to Mission.

We headed down the next corridor, alert for noise and movement. It was eerily empty, but I could still hear the grunts up ahead.

"That doesn't sound like rakghouls," I observed.

"No, it's the Gamorreans," Mission told me.

I nodded to myself. "How many were there?"

"Four, I think. I didn't really have time to count y'know," she replied tartly.

Four. I had a vague recollection of Gamorreans; semi-intelligent beasts that could speak and trade on a fairly basic level. Not something Jen would have encountered. "How were they armed?"

"Vibro-axes," she whispered.

Damn. Oh well, here's hoping we see them some distance away.

We reached the end of the corridor which tapered off into two closed plimsteel doors. I heard grunts coming from the left, and tensed. It's times like these I'm really glad I'm a thief. I smirked, grabbing a 'frag grenade from my pack.

"Ready?" I whispered softly. "I'm going to open the door and throw a grenade. After the blast, I'll charge in with my blade. Back me up with a blaster."

"Yep," Mission sounded like she was struggling to keep her confidence intact.

My shoulders knotted, and I forced myself to stay calm. Use the Force. No, I couldn't lose control in front of Mission. With a deep breath, I primed the grenade, and switched open the door. I mentally counted four hog-like faces as I lobbed the grenade in the centre of the room, before slamming my hand back against the controls.

The door slid shut. Snorts of surprised alarm echoed beyond the thin plimsteel just as the grenade detonated with a thundering cacophony.

The sound dug painfully into my eardrums. I winced, and fought against the desire to press my hands against the sides of my head. Listen, imbecile. What can you hear? A chorus of pained squeals, barely audible over the ringing in my ears. Now. Strike now!

I opened the door and charged.

Three Gamorreans lay on the ground, stunned, and I left them to Mission as I faced the last one. He growled, leaping forwards with a vibro-ax hefted in his grasp. My hand raised in reflex as static pricked the hairs on my arms. No. No! I will not use the Force!

With a wrench of self-control, I ducked and rolled as the Gamorrean's axe lunged at me. Ending in a crouch at his side, my vibrosword struck out to the back of his leg, hacking deep into his calf.

He screamed as he fell forward. With a grunt, I pulled the blade upright before plunging it into his ill-armoured back.

His screams stopped.

I jerked back to the doorway. Mission was hovering there, three corpses at her feet. She was panting; her face pale and drawn, and her blaster shaking in her grasp.

The bodies at her feet all showed signs of frag damage – torn chunks of flesh that left a bloodied mess on the floor. The face of one had been ripped viciously open. Mission glanced up at me, shock evident in her eyes. She let out a small whimpering noise.

She's not used to brawls at all, I realized. This might even be her first kill.

A loud roar from a neighboring room made us both jump. It came from beyond a closed door deeper in the room.

"That's Big Z," Mission whispered. Her expression cleared a little, and I could see the hope bloom. She gave me a tremulous smile.

"Let's get him then," I said, motioning towards the door. She rushed past me, and began fiddling with the lock.

I felt the grin grow on my face. Something eased in my chest. I wasn't sure if it was hope, or relief, or just the sensation of a job well done.

Finally, I whispered to myself. Finally, I've done something right.

xXx