Chapter 21 – Red and White

"It's all over, captain. Everything I've done, for the Republic, for the Sith, it all means nothing. That's all that'll be left...nothing!"

This was hardly the first time Admiral Karath had found himself staring down into an empty bottle of liquor, but it was the first time that his intoxicant of choice was Tarisian ale. Now that Taris had been obliterated, it commanded a premium price, and it was available only in the Leviathan's officers' mess.

The irony that he was now drowning his sorrows with the most famous export of a planet he had helped destroy was not lost on him.

"It's not your fault, admiral. You couldn't have anticipated Irenaceus surviving."

But Karath had no interest in hearing about who was at fault. He had helped enable every atrocity Irenaceus had committed in this war, yet the fault did not lie with him alone. It did not even lie solely with Irenaceus himself. No, fault lay with everyone. Everyone who called himself Sith, from the Dark Lord down to the lowliest rank-and-file grunt, was to blame. Because despite the arrogant posturing of men like Irenaceus, who exulted the strength of the individual, Karath knew that history was not guided by the actions by a few great man, but by the will of the masses. And what else did the "masses" of the Sith desire but mayhem and destruction?

He had never been to Korriban, but he had stories of the terrible things the initiates would do to each other. They were little more than grav-ball hooligans imbued with the Force, only interested in causing carnage and slaughter for their own sake. That was what the Sith truly were - galactic hooligans.

Karath opened another bottle of Tarisian ale and took another swig, knowing full well that he would be risking death by alcohol poisoning.

"I hear Irenaceus sent his apprentice off to Manaan in the hopes of getting rid of him," he said, trying to change the subject. "Poor bastard, I almost feel sorry for him."

Like so much else about the Sith, Darth Bandon was a joke, and it was not uncommon to hear people utter his name and immediately follow it up with fits of uncontrollable laughter. Still, Karath felt a degree of sympathy for the man – it was a terrible thing to live under the heel of Irenaceus, knowing that at any instant the Dark Lord might have you killed for the most petty of reasons. He was amazed that Bandon had lived this long, given his repeated failures.

But Captain Nexxel ignored his digression, and leaned in close. "Listen, admiral, I think I've figured out how the Jedi Exile caused the supernova in this system."

Karath shrugged. He was beyond caring at this point. "So...?"

"So...we can prevent it from happening again! Look, if Irenaceus figures out how to blow up suns, the galaxy's finished. Which means we've got to do whatever it takes to make sure that he never finds out what happened here."

"Then what did happen here?"

"In every star," he began, "there is a balance between two forces. The first is gravity, which wants to crush the star, and the second is the thermonuclear reactions in the star's core, which want to blow it apart. Now, as long as the star has fuel in its core, these two forces exist in perfect equilibrium."

Karath took another sip. "When did you become a bloody astronomer?"

"It's a personal interest of mine, all right? So as I was saying, these two forces exist in a state of balance in star, but only as long as the star has enough fuel in its core. When that runs out, gravity crushes the star's core, and if the star is massive enough, the force of that collapse will create a black hole...and release enough energy to cause a supernova."

"Go on..."

"But here's the thing, admiral – the star that once shone in the Malachor system was too small to go supernova! It was a G-type star; at the end of its life, it should have become a white dwarf. The only way it could have gone supernova and created a black hole was if the star's mass were increased somehow...which led me to believe that that is exactly what the 'mass shadow generator' does. What is a 'mass shadow' but the shadow in hyperspace created by massive objects in realspace? My theory is that the 'mass shadow generator' somehow increases the mass of all objects within a certain area, and by extension increases their gravity. Against a planet, this would be devastating – the surface would be violently rearranged, people would be crushed under their own weight, and ships would be yanked from orbit. But if used against a star, it could conceivably cause a gravitational collapse of its core, triggering a supernova and the formation of a black hole. That's what I think happened, admiral – that the Jedi Exile came to this same conclusion, and used the mass shadow to annihilate this system, along with the Mandalorian fleet."

Another swig, and Karath was rapidly approaching the point where rational thought was impossible. "And what does that have to do with us?"

"It means we should start worrying if Irenaceus starts going down this same path," said Nexxel.

"Irenaceus couldn't tie his own bootlaces without the help of 'Darth Revan'," Karath said, speaking name of Revan in a mocking tone. He was one of the few people who knew the truth about Revan, though he would never dare speak it, as doing so would get him choked to death through the Force in short order.

"You don't need to remind me, admiral; I'm on the bridge as much as you are. But Irenaceus has a way of defying our expectations...just look at what happened on Dantooine. Sooner or later he's going to figure out to how to make a repeat of Malachor, and if that happens, we've got to be ready for him."

"And do what?" Karath said, his speech slurred. "You...you think if there was some way of getting rid of that bastard, I wouldn't have done it already?"

Nexxel, also quite soused at this point, just shook his head. "I...I don't know, admiral. Just...hit the Leviathan's self-destruct button and run for the escape pods or something." He took another drink. "We can't let Irenaceus destroy another world. This...this isn't what I signed on for."

Karath slouched back in his chair, his thoughts turning morbid. "None of us signed on for this, captain. We all got it coming to us. We're all going to burn for what we did..."

A few minutes of silence passed between the two men, while they continued to increase their blood alcohol content to dangerous levels. Finally Karath stood up, nearly falling right over.

"He's making another one of his stupid broadcasts this evening," muttered Karath, heading to the exit. "Guess I...I guess I should get back to the bridge..." He stumbled into the door frame and continued down the hall, bouncing off the walls left and right.

A true Sith does not meditate on the Force. He meditates only on his own greatness.

Those were the words of Darth Revan, and true to his master's instruction, Irenaceus spent most of his time thinking about why he was just better than other Sith. If someone were take a stroll through the Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban and compare him to all the great Sith Lords of days past, Irenaceus was certain that he'd come out a nose ahead.

It was a common misconceptions amongst the ignorant people of the galaxy that the Sith were all about power and the exercise thereof. It was true that the Sith desired power above all else, but being a Sith was all about freedom – the freedom to feel the full spectrum of emotions, from the heights of elation to the depths of despair. It meant freedom from the shackles of conventional morality, the freedom to pursue one's ambition, unrestrained by empathy or conscience. But most of all, it meant freedom from the whims of the Force.

Some said that the Force had a destiny for everyone, but this idea was anathema to the Sith. The Jedi foolishly believed in living in harmony with the Force; if the Force were a river, then they were the sort of people who let themselves be tossed and thrown about by every current and eddy, even when those currents and eddies were dashing them to pieces against the rocks (and Irenaceus was certain that the Force was very much dashing the Jedi to pieces at the moment). But the Sith did not just struggle against the currents of the Force. No, they dammed up the river, diverted its course, and bent it to their will.

Yet any Sith could tell you this. Irenaceus' true genius, according to him, was that he had realised the one thing the Sith had been missing all these years:

Theatricality.

A Sith had to appear larger-than-life, he reasoned, because a Sith was larger-than-life. A Sith was never subtle or discreet. A Sith had to command attention when he walked into a room. His bearing and manner had to scream, "I own this room. I own you." Every action he took, no matter how mundane, had to be as over-the-top as he could possibly make it.

A Sith orders a sandwich, Irenaceus thought, but he does not just say, "I will have a sandwich, please," as Jedi would. No, he must snatch the sandwich from the vendor's hands and declare, "I take your sandwich...AND EAT IT!"

In his mind, Irenaceus was the most perfect Sith who had ever lived. He literally had no faults or weaknesses. The destruction of the Jedi academy on Dantooine proved that he had, once and for all, finally surpassed his master. Darth Revan was nothing compared to him.

By the stars...I'm even more butt-slappin' awesome than I thought I was!

Admiral Karath approached with the camera droid in tow, but the admiral appeared more than a little tipsy. Still, Irenaceus couldn't really blame him for that; no doubt the admiral had merely been celebrating his victory over the Jedi on Dantooine.

"I begin this broadcast with an announcement. I regret to inform you that the bounty hunters we have sent after Bastila have failed in their task. As of now, I am ordering the Leviathan to intercept her ship the instant it leaves Manaan. In all honestly, I don't know why I didn't just do that in the first place, but a Sith never second-guesses himself!"

"And now let's get to what you've all tuned in for...my question-and-answer session!" He picked up a datapad. "Our first inquiry comes from our academy on Korriban, where an anonymous student asks me, 'If you could have any Sith artefact in your possession, what would it be?' Very good question! As I'm sure many of you know, there are great many artefacts scattered throughout the galaxy that I would love to get my hands on, but if I had could only have one, then I would have...The Bible Black!"

A hush fell over the bridge, though not as sudden or complete as when Irenaceus had mentioned the Deconstructor. Ex Profundis Atris: A Compendium of Dark Side Pharmaka and Goetia, better known by its colloquial name The Bible Black, was an infamous (and most likely mythical) set of three holocrons that would purportedly allow the reader to gain powers that would surpass even the mightiest of Sith Lords. The first volume indicated just how one was to obtain such powers, while the second volume contained Sith prophecies with such delightful names as The Thousand Years of Darkness and The Coming of Darth Therion, Lord of Murder and the End of Everything. The third volume contained nothing but obscene sexual content, which served no purpose, presumably, except titillation.

It was said that the Bible Black had a very strong will of its own, and would only grant its secrets to those who proved themselves worthy. What this involved was anyone's guess, though being a Sith artefact, it was likely something horrible. No one knew who had written the Bible Black, and most Sith believed that it was merely a legend, reasoning that if it were really as powerful as people claimed, then someone would have located it by now.

Irenaceus scrolled down the datapad. "Our next questions comes one from the captain of one our frigates, the Sentinel. He asks, 'What, in your opinion, was the best way in which an apprentice disposed of his master?' Another good question! There have been many brilliantly creative ways in which Sith apprentices have slain their masters, but my all time favourite had to be Darth Zivas, who not only killed his master, but imprisoned his soul within the hilt of his lightsaber, a fate the man did not really mind all that much. He even added a little speaker to the hilt, so that his master could speak to its wielder, thus creating the first, and as far as I know the only example of a talking lightsaber. It was amusing for a little, butit soon became rather tiresome to throw oneself into battle, only to have one's lightsaber start making remarks like 'OOOOHHH, now that had to hurt!' or 'SWING HARDER SWING HARDER SWING HARDER!'"

Once again he scrolled through the datapad. "And our final question for the day is anonymous, and it asks 'What is the funniest joke you ever heard?' Why, that's the best question I've received all month! There's one joke that always leaves me howling with laughter, and it goes something like this:"

"There was once this Jedi who did something really, really bad and got thrown out. For the next ten years or so, he wanders around the Outer Rim, completely alone and without anyone to call a friend. As the years pass, he grows so terribly, horribly lonely, wishing above all else that he could find someone to spend his life with. So one day the Force has mercy on him and he finds himself on some mission of tremendous importance, and accompanying him are three beautiful young women. One is an Echani warrior, the other a Force-user, and the third is a bounty hunter. Over the course of their mission these three women fell in love with the Jedi, and he with them."

"You can guess what happened next – the three women got to fighting about which one the Jedi should end up with. 'He needs a strong warrior at his side, so that he may stand against his enemies,' proclaimed the Echani. 'He should have someone who can use the Force alongside him,' said the Force user. 'He needs someone who knows how things work in the real world, someone who knows the dark and dangerous parts of the galaxy," said the bounty hunter. And the poor Jedi, he loved all three women equally, and he couldn't stand the thought of them fighting one another over him. So the three women came up with a plan. They would each spend one week with the Jedi, and during that time they would try to show him why they were the ideal companion for him. After spending a week with each woman, the Jedi would have to choose which woman he wanted to marry."

"The first week was spent with the Echani warrior. She taught him the Echani philosophy of combat, instructed him in their arts of battle, and together they stood against their enemies in battle after glorious batter. 'I have shown you the life of a warrior,' she said to him at the end of their week together, 'I do all this for you, because I love you'."

"The second week he spent with the Force-user. She taught him Force abilities he had never heard of before, meditated upon its mysteries with him, and through the Force they could look upon one another in a way that was far more profound than merely looking with their eyes. 'I have shown you a side of the Force you have never known,' she told him. 'I do all this for you, because I love you'."

"The last week was spent with the bounty hunter. She taught him how to combine his Force abilities with conventional weapons the Jedi normally scorned, and together they travelled the galaxy, tracking down an apprehending the worst criminal scum imaginable, making the galaxy a safer place for everyone. 'I have shown the thrill of bounty hunting,' she said to him. 'I do this all for you, because I love you'."

"Unfortunately for the Jedi, he was no closer to deciding which woman he was going to marry. The weeks he had spent with each woman had been all equally enthralling, and all three women seemed equally suitable companions. So for the next few days he agonised over his decision, knowing full well that whatever woman he chose, it would leave the other two heartbroken. And while this was going on, the three women were in a perpetual state of anxiety over which one of them would be chosen. But as time passed, the Jedi could still not come to a decision. How could he make that choice? How could he possibly decide which woman he was going to spend his life with, when they were all equally wonderful? It seemed like he would never make up his mind."

Irenaceus paused, allowing the anticipation to build up for the punchline.

"So in the end, he married the woman with the biggest breasts."

He burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, howling and guffawing all over the bridge, while everyone else just looked around nervously.

Karath simply looked off into space, wishing that a sudden reactor malfunction would blast the Leviathan into cosmic dust.

Finally Irenaceus realised that no one was laughing with him, and he felt quite offended by this. "What is the matter with you people? Haven't you ever heard a joke before? See, the Jedi kept agonising over his decision about which woman he wanted, but in the end he chose one on the basis of a completely superficial attribute! Get? Eh? Eh?"

No one uttered a single word.

"Frak you all," he grumbled. "You're the worst audience I ever had."

The line to get through Ahto City customs moved at a glacial pace, and while Aina could never admit to anyone, being surrounded by so many people made her anxious, and she found herself subconsciously gripping the hilt of her lightsaber. She had never seen so many individuals gathered in one place, and she was well-aware that her exotic appearance and towering stature was garnering her more than a few stares. That a musical troupe could summon such a colossal crowd would have seemed strange and inexplicable to her, but she long since learned to expect that the galaxy contained a great many strange and inexplicable things.

All the more reason, then, for her to return to Eshan, where things made sense.

"I know, Big Z!" said Mission after Zaalbar made a rather unhappy groan. "Who knew so many people in the galaxy had such bad taste in music?"

A few people in line shot her angry looks, but said nothing.

After an interminable wait, the group found themselves facing a member of the Ahto City port authority, and Aina had her first glimpse at one of the Selkath, the native inhabitants of Manaan.

The closest analogue she could imagine would have been one of the various species of amphibians that lived on her homeworld, if these amphibians walked upright on two legs. Their skin was bluish-green, with a distinctive mottled appearance, and it glistened in the bright light. Their bodies were humanoid in shape, with elongated heads and large, black eyes, and their arms terminated in three-fingered hands. To her eyes they appeared rather repulsive, though Aina reckoned that she probably appeared likewise to them.

The port official spoke in a raspy, baritone gurgling, a language that was utterly foreign to her. "He welcomes us to Ahto City," said Bastila, who evidently understood the Selkath language, "and asks us what our business here is."

"We are on business for the Republic," Aina said, hoping the Selkath understood Basic.

"Then he asks us to respect the policy of neutrality that has been established here," said Bastila, translating. "He says that both the Republic and Sith maintain embassies here, and that any violation of the neutrality act will be prosecuted to the maximum extent of the law."

Carth was amazed to hear this. "You mean they allow the Sith to wander their streets? Don't they know the Sith are trying to conquer the galaxy?"

The Selkath responded to his outburst, and once more Bastila translated for the group. "He says that this world is the sole supplier of kolto to the galaxy, and should either faction move to annex Manaan, the Selkath will destroy their source of kolto and retreat beneath the sea."

He did not sound convinced. "If I know the Sith, they're up to something. They're probably trying to find some way of getting the kolto all to themselves."

"When is this 'concert'?" Aina asked, changing the subject to avoid an argument with the Selkath.

"He says it's tomorrow," Bastila said, "and says that there will be regular submersible service to the Raheel Memorial Hall all throughout the day."

"Guess that means we've got the day off," Jolee remarked. "Wonder if they've got any hat shops on this planet..."

Aina's initial impression of Ahto City was that it was, in many ways, like Taris. It struck her as being cold and sterile, with everything constructed of grey durasteel with little in the way or ornamentation or decoration. Still, there were attempts at livening up the place here and there, such as innumerable fountains and reflecting pools throughout the place, and how the city had been constructed in such a way that no one was ever far away from a spectacular view of the ocean. Pleasingly, most of the buildings had open ceilings, so that no one ever felt excessively cramped. (There remained the question of what was to be done during storms, which surely had to ravage this city at regular intervals).

For reasons beyond their comprehension, the group suddenly found itself in front of a cantina, one named The Drunken Firaxan. The sign by the entrance featured a cartoonishly-drawn sea creature of some sort, who held a foaming glass of an intoxicant in his hand.

Curious as to how she had arrived at this place, Aina turned to look at Carth. "Are you looking for an excuse to drink, again?"

"After Tatooine, we deserve a few a cold drinks, wouldn't you say? Assuming this place has anything that passes muster with you, of course."

Bastila rolled her eyes. "I'm certainly not going to waste my time indulging in idle pursuits," she said haughtily. "I will go to the Republic embassy and see what I can learn regarding the Sith presence on this world."

"And I'm going to go shopping!" said Mission, before departing in a hurry, with Zaalbar struggling to keep up.

"And I'm going to go looking for a hat," said Jolee. "Don't expect me back until nightfall; I'm very particular about my millinery!"

That left Aina and Carth, and unable to think of anything else to do, she followed him into the cantina.

The inside of the cantina was largely identical to the rest of Ahto City, being clean, orderly, and appointed in such a manner as to remind visitors that they were, in fact, on an aquatic world. A troupe of musicians composed entirely of Bith played some horridly-discordant sounding music atop a bandstand, while a pair of droids handled the drink-dispensing duty.

Of more immediate concern were the three men who, upon seeing Aina enter the cantina, immediately jumped out of their chairs and confronted her.

Two men, wearing the polished metal armour of the Sith, flanked an individual Aina had seen somewhere before, but immediate recognition eluded her. He was bald, and bore the same sort of disgusting facial hair worn by many less-civilized folk.

"Look who just wandered in, men! I had hoped for a hunt and chase, but who I am to argue with easy prey?"

After a few seconds, recollection came to her. "You! You are the one I saw on the Endar Spire!"

"Yes," said the Sith a smug grin, "it is I, Darth Bandon. Now, I do apologise for this nasty bit of business, but I must seek your death. A pity, I know, but Lord Irenaceus has decreed your death."

She saw fear behind his bluster, and despite the obvious threat Bandon presented, Aina made no move towards her lightsaber. Instead, she crossed her arms in defiance. "This is neutral ground," she explained calmly. "If you attack me, the guardsmen of this city will slaughter you." Aina did not know if they would react in such a manner, but she doubted if Bandon knew, either.

"Uh, boss, I think she's right," said one of Bandon's accomplices. "Remember what they told us when we got here?"

That was enough to take the thrust out of his engines. "Eh...you think so?"

"Yeah, I mean, those security droids we saw looked pretty mean..."

Carth laughed in their face. "I don't think you guys thought your plan all the way through..."

Aina took one step towards Bandon, impressing upon him the height difference between them. "But I'm still going to destroy you!" he proclaimed, albeit with far less confidence in his voice. "Now you will...now..."

Bandon glanced left and right at the men with him, before hanging his head.

"Aw, frak this! Irenaceus sent me here to die, didn't he? Well I'm sick of doing the bidding of that clown! Of all the Sith Lords that I could have as many master, I get the one who's only talent is hamming it up on stage!"

His accomplices were in complete agreement. "Yeah, this is the worst job I've ever taken! I don't get paid enough for this!"

Bandon whirled around. "Wait...you get paid?"

"Don't you, boss?"

"No, I don't! Karking hell..." He looked up at Aina. "You...you have no idea what it's like serving Darth Irenaceus! Sure, it was fun for a while, but the Sith need leadership, and he can't provide it! His ego is so large it warps space and time! His stupidity is so vast it encompasses entire star systems! Being eaten alive by piranha beetles would be too good an end for him!"

"If you despise him so much, why do you not slay him? That is the way of the Sith, is it not?"

Admitting the truth took every ounce of effort Bandon could muster. "Because I...because I'm not strong enough, that's why! Look, Jedi, if you let me walk out of that door, then I promise you will never see me again. Maybe I'll find work as a nerf herder on Alderaan, or as a moisture farmer on Tatooine. Anything is better than having to put up with that...that...actor!"

Before she could reply, Bandon stormed out of the cantina with his companions following close behind. The few patrons who had paid attention to the encounter quickly returned to their drinks.

"Did not see that coming," said Carth.

"If Irenaceus' own apprentice is willing to forsake him, then others among the Sith will surely follow."

"We can only hope."

Aina approached the counter of cantina, unsure of what to request, knowing that off-world intoxicants were likely unpalatable compared to those on her homeworld.

The man working the counter belonged to a species she couldn't even hope to identify. "Eshan Standard vodka, in a clean glass."

The barkeep grunted a reply, and began pouring the requested beverage into a small glass. Eshan Standard was one of the few (quite possibly only) products that the Echani actually exported from their homeworld, and was likely the one off-worlders typically associated with that planet. It came in distinctive square bottles, sealed with bright red wax.

She heard someone speak to her in her native tongue. "Never thought I'd meet another Echani on this planet. Are you here for the concert?"

To her right sat a Echani man, presently engaged in a battle of wills against a large glass filled with a bright purple liquid. He had extremely long hair, even longer than hers, and he spoke in the distinctive southern dialect.

"No, my business here is my own," she replied. "I know nothing of the bards that will be performing here, though one of my comrades informs me they are terrible."

The Echani laughed. "Indeed they are! But my band is the opening act, so I'll be keeping that opinion to myself...at least until the show's over."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're a musician?"

"Yes, I'm the singer for the band Kuun Suru, perhaps you've heard of us?"

"I'm afraid I have little exposure to music, both on Eshan and elsewhere."

"Well if you're looking for the worst possible band to open for The Falcons, we'd be it. Our manager thought it would be a great idea; get us more exposure and all that, but the kind of people who listen to The Falcons would never listen to us. We base our songs on the myths and legends of our people, and we sing in our native language. The Falcons, on the other hand, like to sing about making money and sexual conquests. Our two audiences...do not...overlap."

"I see. While I have no interest in this concert, I am curious about the hall in which it will be held."

The man took another swig of his drink. "I haven't been there yet, but from what I've heard, it's this great big transparisteel dome, so you can see the ocean all around you. Of course, if there's even the slightest crack in the dome, then everyone inside is going to get drowned right quick." He then saw the lightsaber Aina carried with her, and he looked greatly surprised. "Are you a Jedi? I've never heard of any Echani joining their ranks before."

"I have been trained by them in the Force, but I do not hold with their ideals."

"Mmm hmm...if I were you, I'd still keep that weapon of yours hidden, though. The Falcon's lead singer, Tann Enlai, he's got a heavy axe to grind with the Jedi...with one Jedi in particular, actually."

She raised a hand. "Stop – I already know which Jedi it was. It was Kiven, the Singing Jedi, was it not?"

The Echani stared at her. "Yes, it was. How did you know?"

"Because everywhere I go, I keep hearing about him. It would seem that he has left echoes of his presence wherever he has gone. But tell me how he so offended this singer."

He took another sip from his glass. "It happened on Dantooine a few years ago, when The Falcons played there as part of their farewell reunion tour; they've had at least a half-dozen 'farewell' tours since then, but that's neither here nor there. Kiven's band Blacksaber was the opening act that day, and they were about as appropriate an opening band for The Falcons as we are, which is to say, not very appropriate at all. So Kiven walks out on stage, and right away you could tell he was drunk out of his mind. And then he launches into this tirade, calling The Falcons the worst band he'd ever heard of, a disgrace to music, and a bunch of tired old hacks who charged outrageous prices just to hear the same overplayed songs you could hear every five minutes on any HoloNet music channel. Now, he wasn't exactly wrong, but slagging the headlining act is just tactless."

"So what happened?"

"Blacksaber started playing, and everyone thought they were going to make complete fools of themselves. I mean, how could they be any good when their singer could barely stand? But the thing is...they completely blew everyone away. I'm not like most Echani, see, and I've been all around the galaxy, yet I'd never heard anything like what I heard that day. And the people in the audience must have felt the same way, because when Blacksaber walked off stage, more than the half audience just got up and left!"

"I imagine The Falcons would not have born that insult lightly."

"No, they didn't. Tann Enlai was angrier than an ice bear that's been shot in the arse, and he refused to perform their set list. Having your opening act mock you is bad enough, but having your opening act completely steal the show out from under you? That had to hurt...so much so that when Kiven got thrown out of the Jedi, he took the opportunity to put out a bounty on his head. And Tann's so rich, the bounty he set was so large the poor sod will never be able to go near a civilised system again." The Echani leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Look, I don't know what business the Jedi have on Manaan, and to be honest, I don't want to know. But take my advice – watch out for Tann Enlai. I've heard rumours that he's involved with both the Sith and the Exchange, and all the spice he's done over the years has made him a bit...unstable. I mean, if he were to get clean, it'd probably collapse Nar Shaddaa's infrastructure."

"What do you mean, 'unstable'?"

"At his last concert, he went off on this deranged rant about how the attack on Taris was an 'inside job' carried out by the Jedi to gain support for the war, and that if he had his way, he'd hunt down and kill every last Jedi in the galaxy. And there's a good number of people out there who agree with him." He stood up after finishing the last of his drink. "But I can tell you're a warrior from your bearing, and I'm sure musicians must be rather far down on the list of people who can threaten you."

He left without another word, and with Carth off speaking with a group of people he evidently knew, Aina could do nothing except sit at the counter and watch one of the large displays behind it, one of which was programmed to show a continuous feed from HoloNet News, wherein a rather immodestly-dressed Twi'lek recounted recent events of major galactic significance.

"A recent survey of the Outer Rim world of Taris, devastated in an attack that left billions dead and the planet's surface uninhabitable, has concluded that a restoration of the planet's biosphere is 'not economically feasible'. The large quantities of radioisotopes in the atmosphere, along with the ongoing nuclear winter and kilometres of wreckage and debris covering the planet's surface, were cited as reasons by the Republic survey expedition."

"A wave of anti-Jedi sentiment has swept the galaxy in the wake of the recent nuclear attack on Dantooine, culminating in a mass protest outside the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Many are calling for the Order's disbandment, claiming that the Sith are an enemy the Jedi have created through their own actions, and that the Jedi routinely engage in the kidnapping and abduction of Force-sensitive children throughout the galaxy. Some commentators have even go so far as to call the ongoing conflict the 'Jedi Civil War', referring to the growing belief that it is merely a wave of sectarian violence."

"In arts and entertainment news, underground band Repulsörhead has recently claimed the title of 'Loudest Band in the Galaxy', producing a sustained sound pressure level in excess of 160 decibels. The concert was tragically cut short, however, when the band's lead singer spontaneously combusted on-stage. He was the band's 42nd singer."

Aina hurriedly finished her drink. She had an unpleasant premonition that something terrible was going to happen...or something absurd. Or something terribly absurd...

"Did you hear what Carth said back on the ship? Sounds like everyone is really scared of this Darth Revan guy."

Zaalbar was all too familiar with the particular tone Mission was speaking in, for it indicated that she was planning something dubious, and quite possibly illegal.

"I mean, don't you think it's crazy that no one knows anything about him? I've searched all over the HoloNet for any sort of information about him, and there's just nothing! You'd think that I, of all people, would be able to find something..."

The Wookiee could see the wheels turning in her head as she hatched some scheme. "You know, Big Z, the Jedi don't know who Revan is or what he looks like. So if someone were to start pretending to be Revan..."

This was met with a noise of disapproval. "What are you talking about?" she exclaimed. "I'm not going to prank the Jedi!"

Zaalbar indicated that he didn't believe her one bit.

She repeated her protest. "I am not going to prank the Jedi!"

A few seconds of silence passed between the pair.

"I am so going to prank the Jedi!"

At once she grabbed her datapad and began looking through it, while Zaalbar merely hung his head. He knew there was no stopping Mission once she put her mind to something.

She could barely contain her excitement. "It'll take some time to set up, but if we pull this off, Big Z, it'll be the greatest prank we ever did! We'll be laughing about it for years to come!" Mission then began looking through her pack, sorting through her possessions. "It's a good thing I kept these lightsabers, that'll make it more believable. Now I just need some black fabric, and something to cover my face. I'm sure we can find that stuff somewhere in this city!"

She ran off through the crowded streets of Ahto City, once more leaving her Wookiee companion struggling to keep up.

Things took a turn for the worse when the group reunited in the evening. Judging by Bastila's silence, she had learned nothing at the Republic embassy, and as Jolee was still hatless, he had not had any success in his quest for headgear. They had not even reached the hangar where the Ebon Hawk had berthed when they were approached a rather breathless man, who had the look of someone bearing bad news.

"You were the people who ordered the gizkas?" he said in between shallow breaths.

Aina frowned. "No, we di-"

"Uh, bit a problem, see. We loaded the crate onto your ship, but it...uh...accidentally tipped over and all the gizkas got loose."

"What? We never-" Carth began, before he too was cutoff.

"But I already got paid for the delivery, so they're your problem now." He ran off as fast as he could, no doubt to escape retribution.

"What was that all about?" Mission asked.

Carth was not exactly pleased at this recent turn of events. "Aw Sithspit, don't tell me we've got a bunch of gizkas running loose on the ship! Now I'm going to have to hunt down and blast every last one of those karkers, unless we can get our hands on some gizka poison."

Mission was aghast. "What? You can't just kill them! I heard they make great pets!"

"Pets? Listen Mission, if you feed one of those things even the tiniest morsel of food, then pretty soon you'll have ten gizkas, then a hundred, then a thousand! They've probably eaten our food stores already!"

Zaalbar offered his own suggestion, which Mission found even more distasteful.

"What? You want to grill them and eat them? That's terrible! You're sick, both of you!"

When they entered the hangar, however, they encountered a far more pressing concern.

One of Atris' Handmaidens – Aina could not tell which, save that it was not the halfbreed – waited for them by the Ebon Hawk's boarding ramp. She carried a vibroblade in her hands, and from her stance it was clear that she intended violence.

Aina stepped forward, and signalled for her companions to stay back. "So," she said to the Handmaiden, "Atris sends one of her servants to fight me, instead of coming here herself. She is as cowardly as she is stupid."

"I will not waste words with you!" the Handmaiden retorted. "Draw your blade!"

Despite Aina's contempt for Atris, it did not extend to her servants. She knew that this woman, along with her sisters, was trapped in the one situation no Echani ever wanted to find herself in: being sworn to someone dishonourable, but unable to break free for fear of the shame that came with breaking a plighted troth.

Aina glanced back at her comrades. "Stay out of this. This between me...and this most unfortunate daughter of Yusanis." She drew her own vibroblade, a weapon she had not cast aside despite possessing a lightsaber. For this battle, she would fight as an Echani, not as a Jedi.

The two Echani drew closer. "Atris knows that you will succumb to the dark side," said the Handmaiden, her voice devoid of emotion. "You are a threat she cannot allow."

"If it is the ruinous power you seek, then you need look no further than your mistress. Speak of the Exile to her. See her anger. How can she call herself a 'Jedi Master' when she cannot master herself?"

"Enough!"

The Handmaiden launched into a series of quick attacks, intended to put Aina on the defensive and allow her to control the pace of battle. Every Echani warrior knew that it was imperative to attack quickly and maintain momentum, rather than waiting for her opponent to make the next move. Aina knew it had been a mistake to let her enemy make the first move, but it would give her a chance to see how the Handmaiden fought, and by extension, what sort of individual she truly was.

Aina gave ground willingly, remembering how the instructors at the Silver Mountain monastery would often let their over-eager apprentices believe they were pushing them back, when all they were really doing is wasting their stamina, leaving them open for a punishing counter-attack.

Standing two heads taller than the Handmaiden, keeping her at a distance was easy. Aina watched her opponent's moves, seeing them play out in her mind before she even made them, and noticed that there was a pattern of rigidity in her moves, a complete lack of spontaneity. She was nothing if not predictable.

A clear sign the Handmaiden had spent too much time fighting the same opponent. And she had likely never lost to that same opponent, either, and thus had never learned the flaws in her technique.

Seeing the Aina was intent on keeping her away, the Handmaiden attempted to close the distance with a lunging thrust. Knowing it was coming, Aina slapped the thrust aside with her blade, then followed with a swift kick that knocked the Handmaiden on her back. She sprung back to her feet, but not before Aina launched into a flurry of blows that drove her back, almost to the wall of the hangar. The Handmaiden kept her blade close to her body in a defensive posture, refusing to allow any opening, but at the same preventing her from making any attacks whatsoever.

"You've fought too much with the same foe," she said, her voice calm despite their clashing blades. "Was it the halfbreed? I will not be such easy prey for you!"

Her words striking true, the Handmaiden lashed out with string of heavy, overhead blows, filling the hangar with the resounding noise of metal striking metal. Proud and haughty, Aina thought as she effortlessly blocked and evaded the Handmaiden's attempts to chivvy her into leaving an opening, but not possessing the skills or abilities to match. She turned aside from a swift overhead strike, then followed up with a swift kick that once more sent the Handmaiden sprawling to the ground.

"Like leaves without water, your skills have withered under Atris' tutelage."

The Handmaiden got back to her feet, and instantly re-asserted herself. She came at Aina with strikes of such breathtaking velocity that she dared not attempt a counter-attack. Finally their blades locked in front of their faces, but with her superior height Aina could easily use her weight to her advantage, forcing the Handmaiden to buckle slowly at the knees, until she disengaged and threw herself into a backroll that put her a few metres of separation between the two women.

They circled one another for several seconds, neither making a move, but Aina was not about to let this woman take the initiative again. Letting the Force flow through her, she came down on her opponent with a heavy blow that pushed the Handmaiden's blade so far inside that it rubbed against her shoulder.

But the Handmaiden was not completely predictable, and in a flash she dropped into a foot-sweep that knocked Aina to the ground, leaving her an opening in which to leap away. With the aid of the Force, Aina sprung back to her feet and the two women were once again circling one another. Aina could see the anger and frustration in the Handmaiden's eyes, the look of a warrior who had defeated all comers and was now confronted with an opponent that outclassed her in every possible respect. That meant the Handmaiden would become fare more dangerous, like a cornered animal, as she desperately tried to find some way of fending off an enemy that had withstood everything she had thrown at her.

Willing to let the Handmaiden make the first mistake, Aina leaned forward while simultaneously stepping back, her immense height creating the impression that she had moved forward while she had actually moved backward. The Handmaiden took the bait, reaching out with a lunging thrust, only to find that her attack had come up far too short. Realising her error, she tried to pull back her blade, but Aina answered with a lightning-quick slash that cut into the Handmaiden's outstretched arm. She followed up with a whirling kick that knocked her off-balance, then moved in.

At that moment, Aina knew she could have eviscerated her opponent. But she had no intention of killing this woman.

Instead, she slashed at the Handmaiden's legs, cutting a wide gash into her calf, then striking her in the chest with an open palm, knocking her to the floor.

She kicked the Handmaiden's weapon aside, then held the tip of her own vibroblade to her throat. "You're pathetic," she said, her voice still calm and even. "I expected far more from the progeny of Yusanis."

The Handmaiden offered no retort, her white clothes rapidly turning red from her wounds.

"I leave you with your life. It would be a shame if one of Yusanis' daughters should die for Atris' foolishness. Go now. Return to your mistress, and tell her she has made an enemy this day, and if we meet again it shall be on the field of battle!"

Again, the Handmaiden said nothing, gritting her teeth in pain and glaring at Aina with a look of pure hatred. Slowly, she got to feet and began limping away, no doubt pondering how she would explain her failure to her mistress.

Aina sheathed her blade and turned to face her companions. "Pitiful woman," she muttered. "Had she continued under her father's instruction, she would have been more than a match for me. But as Atris' thrall, she will never amount to anything."

Everyone looked impressed with her swift victory over the Handmaiden, with the exception of Bastila. "Now you see what you have wrought," she said with disdain. "Did you think you could make an enemy of a Jedi Master and not expect her to act? Though I suppose I should be thankful you opted to spare that woman's life."

"Did you truly believe that I would do as Atris asked, and relinquish myself into her custody?"

"No, but I would expect you to refrain from escalating the situation. It is unwise to provoke the obstinate. I doubt this will be the last action she takes against you."

"I am a friend to my friends," she said solemnly, "but when I am threatened, I respond in kind. You may be willing to submit to the demands of those Jedi who call themselves 'masters', but I am not."

Bastila's voice suddenly took on a threatening tone. "This arrogant pride of yours will be your undoing! The Sith are unlike anything you will have faced on your homeworld. They are fuelled by the dark side, and if you cannot set aside your pride and glory-seeking, then you may find yourself ensnared in its web just as hopelessly as any Sith."

She had stopped listening after the first two sentences. "I should hope that the Sith are made of sterner stuff than what I have seen so far. The one who has beaten all opponents is the one I'd like most as my adversary."

Bastila responded with a growl of frustration, and was about to reply when Carth stepped in. "I hate to break up this friendly debate of yours, but we really should do something about those gizka's running loose on our ship."

Once they were on the Ebon Hawk, the reality of the situation became clear. Several dozen gizka were busy making a home for themselves, having already spread to every part of the ship.

"No, Big Z!" said Mission, after Zaalbar started eyeing one of the creatures. "You're not eating them! I don't care how hungry you are!"

In the ship's cargo hold, they found the source of the infestation – a large, overturned shipping container, marked with the words LIVE SPECIMENS on one side, and DANGER – EXTREMELY PROLIFIC on the other.

One of the gizkas brushed about against Aina's boot, and she quickly snatched it up into her hands. The gizka let out a squawk of protest, but made no move to escape her grasp. It looked to her like a rather ridiculous creature, with an oversized head, mottled greenish-brown skin, and spindly little legs. Aina did not consider herself a sentimental woman, but looking in the gizka's large, glossy eyes, she found it impossible to muster any sort of malice towards it.

Carth considered them a nuisance, but Mission considered them the final ingredient in her prank.

"Don't worry," she said, "I'll find some way of getting rid of them. I just gotta find something they like to eat, and then lure em' back into the crate with it."

Naturally, she left unspoken what she intended to do with them.