Into the dunes

- Jen Sahara -


I sat down slowly on the bottom bunk, my muscles clenching in protest at the movement. The healing Bastila had forced on me certainly helped, no matter how intrusive it was. But the thought of kolto or even bacta patches was preferable to the unwelcome invasion of her Force. She meant well, Jen murmured and Street Kid echoed her, adding on: even if she is a rude snot.

Yet the thought of someone intruding into my body without my permission was infuriating. I'd reacted poorly to her- and I still felt like baring my teeth.

And then there were the revelations she'd dumped on my head. Some, made sense. Some didn't. And some had the taste of blatant lies.

Jen Sahara sure as stars ain't my past. The sheltered commune on Deralia had been Jen's childhood; quiet days of simple farm work and sheltered piety, broken only when I had- Jen had- scored that scholarship to the neighbouring Academia. It was her history, not mine.

Street Kid came from a poverty-stricken deprivation worse than Taris. As for Evil Bitch- well, she probably hailed from Hoth or some other place as cold and dark as her heart.

They were different people to Jen Sahara.

Was Bastila lying? Or is her claim of ignorance correct? Could it be that, despite our mind-link, she doesn't know the whole of my history? I refused, utterly, to even consider the possibility that Bastila might be correct. Jen wasn't me. It might be the only name I had for myself, but it wasn't mine.

Yet that wasn't everything. Bastila said I'd been a Jedi. Well, it seemed likely. Both Evil Bitch and Street Kid must have had training from somewhere. So which one had been the Jedi?

At least it didn't take a genius to work out which one had fallen to the Dark Side.

The Dark Side… it was scary just how compelling it was. It was scary how part of me truly believed it was the right way.

I sighed heavily, and forced those thoughts away. Dragging my knees up to rest my chin on them, I moved on to the latter part of the evening. Our little Force session earlier had annoyed rather than enlightened. Bastila, it seemed, wished to take things very slowly. Considering Juhani had until recently been a psychopathic murdering plague upon the dunes, I supposed I couldn't blame her- but it didn't quell my impatience. I understood that frelling code the first time she said it. Why Bastila thought repeating it a hundred times to Juhani and me both would help, I had no idea; but it certainly had not lulled me into a deeper meditative state as was her stated intention. There is no damn emotion, or there won't be after I throttle her.

Well, satisfaction was probably counted as an emotion.

I scowled. I needed time to examine all aspects of what Bastila had imparted to me. Can I trust what she said? To be sure, some of it made perfect sense. My thoughts tracked back to the earlier flashbacks I'd had on Taris. One mentioned coming back after the Mandalorian wars. I frowned, thinking on that recollection as best I could, but it had started to fade the moment I'd come to – and that had been weeks ago. And I still have no idea who that man was… He'd been important to Street Kid, though.

I didn't know why I had three different people in my head, either. Was it a sign of a mental disorder? I'd tried seeking help, the result of which landed me in a dazed stupor only a near-death experience could snap me out of.

It had turned me back into Jen. Just like back on the Endar Spire, before I'd cracked my head open. But after my head injury... once the alarms had started wailing on that doomed Hammerhead-class cruiser, I'd come to and it hadn't taken me long to know I wasn't Jen Sahara.

If only I could narrow it down further.

As for the bond... Somehow, I had to stop Bastila having the ability to cut off my Force power. As soon as I'd seen her outside the Ebon Hawk, I'd struggled and striven to feel absolutely nothing, to keep all my emotions under an imaginary shield of indifference. There'd been times I'd wondered if I was picking up on her emotions; which made me assume she could do the same in reverse. Even better than me, for Bastila had training where I did not, and I couldn't deny her strength in the Force.

So I'd tried my damnedest, as I walked away from her presence and her dubious revelations, to feel nothing but a detached numbness.

It'd been working... until I broke down. I closed my eyes in embarrassed recollection. Hey, it could have been worse. I could have started bawling in front of Canderous. I snickered as I imagined the derisive look that would have appeared on the veteran's rugged face.

Stop evading the issue. I lost control. That was weak. Pathetic. I dragged a blanket over myself half-heartedly. Weak and pathetic? Like the Dark Side is? That didn't fit, somehow. Bastila assured me I'd turned into a mindless tool of Darth Malak. Me? A cowering minion? I am no one's minion! What was the stronger, the Dark Side, or the resistance of such?

If only I knew Bastila's agenda, then I might have a better handle on her honesty. Jedi did not lie, except that Bastila already had. She is nothing. She tries to make me doubt my own self! Although I'd already been doing that before she came along.

I sighed in frustration, and gave up on inner reflection for the night. I was exhausted, mentally and physically, and thought it might be time to get some well-deserved rest. Let's try some of those simple meditative techniques Bastila was cramming down my throat.

I cleared my mind after a struggle, and slowly fell into an uneasy sleep.

An older Zabrakian woman stood before me, frowning. She was dressed in loose fitting tan robes, holding a cyan coloured lightsaber pointed at me.

Her stance was ready, waiting; but she did not appear in the least bit threatened or anxious.

The vision spiralled into nothingness as I clutched after it, in a drowsy state of semi-wakefulness. Who was the Zabrak? She looked like a Jedi? But the details fled, and slowly fatigue overcame me once more. I drifted off again into a restless sleep.

"It's in here somewhere. I can feel it," I whispered as I took another step into the darkness. The air smelled damp and rancid; probably a natural odour in a krayt dragon's habitat.

"Better be. Only for you would I traipse through this gods-forsaken desert." The words husked past my ears as I felt hands trail over my robed arms from behind. I could almost see him grin cockily as he pushed aside my hood to kiss my neck. "Only for you would I face dragons."

I turned in his arms, shivering despite myself. Our path had turned harder and bloodier than I could have ever expected, but at least we stood together. There were few left that I wholly trusted, and he stood at the forefront of them.

He ran a hand gently along the side of my face. His eyes, whiskey-brown and familiar, were burning with intensity. My lips curved as he lowered his face to mine.

"You smell of krayt blood," he murmured, before pressing forward in a gentle kiss.

"And you are distracting me." I pushed him away despite the welcome tightening in my stomach. There's a time and a place for distractions... not here. Physical satiation can wait.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Lead on then."

I turned from him, and walked further into the musty cave. Bones and rotting carcasses lined the cavern walls, but my goal was further ahead. A dark, cloying presence swirled in the Force. This is it, then. This is our next step. I could see some sort of metallic object up ahead, and I knew it was the Star Map.

"Well, well. Only our fourteenth cave, and finally we hit the jackpot." His sardonic tone couldn't swamp down my excitement as I investigated the old Rakata relic, crouching down and activating it with a brief pulse of Force power.

The Map opened, creaking from disuse, and a sharp blue light spiked into my vision. I squinted as the ancient navigational map unfolded in front of us.

The image blurred and faded; I could feel myself frowning, shifting uncomfortably in my bed; but a weary lassitude sat heavy in my limbs and my mind. There was a sense of watchfulness from somewhere or someone... a worried sort of fear... and it wasn't mine. I struggled to think more on it, but my body demanded more sleep. I sunk back into the realm of slumber.

...

"I am loyal! I swear it!"

The woman gasped as I lifted her in the Force, slamming her hard against the wall behind.

"Tell me who betrayed me," I snarled viciously, my rage fuelling the Force that thrummed and pulsed through my body.

"I do not know! I wasn't part of it!"

I could hear the sincerity in her tone. She was of no use to me then, and I was not in the mood to be sparing. I squeezed my fist, and her neck yanked to the side. And audible snap sounded through the room. Now that was a waste. That sort of carelessness is more often displayed by my apprentice, I berated myself ruefully as I exited the room, stepping over the twitching body. My apprentice... No, he couldn't be the one who betrayed me. Not him. It would be one of the other remnants of the blasted Jedi Thirteen.

I walked further, well aware a trap was waiting for me, but my pride would not allow for anything else but to show I was the strongest. No one can best me. No one ever has, and once again, it looks like I have to prove it.

A large chrome door opened ahead of me. Of course, they are expecting me. I had been lured onto this pathetic hovel of a planet merely to be led into an ambush, organized by Deralian troops and some of my own traitorous Dark Jedi. I will lay waste to this festering planet.

But first, the matter of this scum up ahead. I will show them what happens to those who dare to betray me!

I stood still in the doorway, aware that the light from the room behind was illuminating my presence like a homing beacon, but perversely I wanted them to make the first, futile move.

I could sense perhaps six or so Dark Jedi in the room. The blood of Deralian troops still splattered my robes; yet I was more than ready to add to it. Who organized this? Which pathetic minion dared to believe they could challenge me?

The one nearest snarled, and charged.

The vision dimmed and then disappeared, but I could still sense the figure. There was something shaking me, someone's hand, gripping against my shoulder-

My fist struck out the grabbed the offender's throat.

"Jen! Le-let go!" A high-pitched girl's scream.

What? I dropped my hand abruptly, opening my eyes. Someone was coughing, as an alarmed shot of adrenaline surged through me, and roused me fully to consciousness. Did I just try to kill Mission?

Harsh light from a halogen tubing flared through the room as she flicked the lights on.

"Sheesh, Jen, what were you trying to do? Murder me?" Mission spluttered.

"Are you okay?" I gasped. I was standing without realizing it. "Stars, I'm sorry. I was having some sort of nightmare." Vivid enough that I'd lunged out... that I'd almost choked Mission-

"No kidding." Her voice was dry, but she was grinning. I'd not really hurt her, then. Good. "Remind me not to wake you up again, Jen. Sheesh, I thought I was gonna be Jawa juice there for a minute."

"I'm sorry. Really sorry. I was dreaming someone was going to attack me," I said, relieved now that she seemed to be just fine. The vision still swirled in my head. I'd been surrounded by Force-using bastards about to kill me. What happened next?

Mission giggled, a sudden noise that surprised me. "You weren't dreaming about Bastila, where you? I bet she was pretty mad we left the ship, huh?"

"Well, you know Bastila," I muttered.

The Twi'lek rolled her eyes, her lekku flicking in annoyance. I'd never totally been able to speak the full depth of Twi'leki, which required a set of headtails to emphasize certain points and subtleties. I knew enough to pick up on some of the nuances, though, and Mission seemed to incorporate it instinctively as she spoke Basic.

"What are you doing awake now, anyway?" I asked. "It must be the middle of the night."

"It's almost dawn. And, y'know, I'm worried Bastila'll stop you helping me. You're okay to fight, now, right? Will you… will you help me?"

She wants to go after Griff. Well, that suited me. The fading remnants from my dream roused a lust for some healthy violence. There was an annoying part of me commenting that I should control that- that I'd almost injured Mission. And the Twi'lek does have her uses. It would be a waste to kill her.

No! I felt my fists clench in reflex at the cold thought. It's got nothing to do with sodding waste! She's my friend!

But the shadows in my mind knew that attachment was a weakness. Emotion is a useful tool, provided it doesn't become a deficiency. The girl is no one to me. She is merely a resource.

A sharp pain in my palms had me looking down; my fingernails were pressed deep into my palms. There was a harsh noise that I recognized as the sound of my own uneven breathing.

"Jen?" Mission prompted. "Are you... are you okay?"

I pasted a smile on my face and forced the dark, contradictory emotions deep down. With a mental wrench, I focused properly on the conversation.

"How do you plan to leave Anchorhead this time?" I asked.

We'd lost our hunting license, somewhere out in the sandy wild. I probed cautiously through the mind-link; from what I could tell, Bastila was still asleep. It made me wonder what sort of dreams she had- and as that occurred to me, the vague recollection of a worried, watchful presence surrounding me resurfaced-

I stiffened in outrage. No. It's impossible. That couldn't have been her. She can't be sharing my dreams. I'd rather jump into a sarlacc pit!

But if it was her – and the more I thought on it, the likelier it seemed – then it meant one thing for certain. This bond was getting far too powerful.

"What we did last time, I guess," the girl chirped. "Buy another one. Although I'm outta credits, and I'd better not pinch anymore." Her head drooped. "Big Z told me off for a long time last night."

"Huh," I said, my tone noncommittal. "Zaalbar's coming, right?"

She nodded. "He took a lot of convincing. Keeps harping on about wanting Bastila with us. But I reckon now you're back to normal, and that droid's got proper shields, then we've got a chance, right? I mean, I can't give up on my brother. And last night the Mandalorian geezer said the others were going after a ruin or something." Mission sniffed. "It's just, the longer my brother's held hostage, the less chance he has, y'know?"

"Yeah," I said, but my concentration had wandered. Ruins? Was it possible that Bastila was going after the original objective of the Endar Spire? All by herself?

"Jen?"

My gaze snapped back to the hopeful blue Twi'lek. We needed a way of acquiring more credits, or-

A cold smile curved my lips. "I have a better idea."

Mission's eyes brightened. "What?"

"Bastila has a hunting license. She also has three lightsabers." I'd seen them, last night, before she'd quickly hidden them. I hadn't drawn attention to Juhani's, clipped on my belt, but I desired a second. And it's not like Bastila has three hands. She can certainly spare one. "You're pretty good at sneaking into places, my friend."

It was callous, to put it on her, but somehow I had the feeling that Bastila would respond worse to discovering me in her quarters than the young Twi'lek. Not I thought she'd be particularly impressed with Mission, but-

"You want me to steal from a Jedi?" Mission hissed, covering her mouth with a hand.

I smirked. "Think you're up to it?"

Street Kid had done her fair share of sneaking, much like Mission. It was wrong to use my friend in such a fashion.

No, it isn't. One uses the resources one has at hand. And I was assisting her with her stupid brother. I'd be stronger, better to aid her, with two 'sabers instead of one. The moment I'd claimed Juhani's weapon, the Force had felt wickedly alive, and the vibrosword in my offhand a dead, primitive tool.

"Well, she's asleep now, right?" Mission giggled at my nod. "It's certainly a challenge. She'll have kath pups if she catches me!"

"So don't get caught."

"Okay. I'll see what I can do." The Twi'lek gave me a confident grin, and sauntered from the room. I shrugged the residual guilt away, and allowed my thoughts to dwell back to the flashbacks that had filtered through my dreams. The details were already disappearing, trickling through my fingers like Tatooine sand. But I could still remember the general detail of them.

Only Evil Bitch could be psychotic enough for the last one. But that odd vision about that brightly glowing artefact... it looked like some sort of navigational map. That was Street Kid. Her boyfriend was in it again. I cared for him. I could feel it. Street Kid had used the Force effortlessly to open that map. She was older, harder than before.

Not when compared to my other half, however. I thought on the fading details of that final vision again, and shuddered at the memory of the person I had killed. Why? Why murder someone who was no threat? And I'd been confident enough, or crazy enough, to walk straight into a trap I knew was coming.

It hit me then, fully. I was powerful. I had people following me. At least one, for the woman I had killed had sworn loyalty. Bastila told me I'd turned weak and spineless when I embraced the Dark Side. My eyes narrowed.

She lied.

Evil Bitch might be psychotic, unbalanced, and utterly deluded, but she wasn't weak.

It's time to split. Time to disappear. Any longer around that Jedi schutta and she'll either walk me straight into a trap- or I'll turn back into meek Jen Sahara.

I could feel the rage beginning to burn, deep in my gut. Bastila wanted to bring me towards some of her all-powerful masters. Maybe, one day when I have regained my full strength in the Force, I might just take her up on that. But, seeing as I promised to help Mission find her brother, I'd go there first. The desert is a wonderful place to vanish in. It would be a shame not to spend any time learning from Juhani, but it was more important to put some distance between me and Bastila. I'd been willing to overlook Bastila's lie about Alderaan, even the sedative when I'd boarded the Ebon Hawk, but now… I couldn't trust anything she said.

The hatch opened and Mission strode back in, grinning from ear to ear. She grasped a metallic rod in one hand. I smiled slowly.

"Easy as hessi-loaf!" She grinned, coming to flop on the bed next to me. She thrust the deactivated lightsaber into my possession, and flashed the plasteel card that once more, proclaimed our monetary donation to the Czerka coffers. I smirked. Bastila was going to be pissed once she found it missing.

"Let's go."

xXx

I belted on the used combat suit Mission had retrieved for me, followed by winding cloths around my head. The suit itself had a thermostat control that would aid in the desert, and was otherwise a standard issue, lightweight sort that would provide minimum protection. Mission had been acquiring more gear from the cargo bay, it seemed.

I noted that plating was missing from the left arm with a grimace. No problem. I'll just make sure I don't get hit there then.

Zaalbar was staring at me in evident worry.

"I'm fine, Zaalbar." He had spoken few words to me since we'd encountered the Cathar. His life-debt tied him to me tightly, but I didn't want him worrying. He needs to stay focused on any combat, not on my emotional state. The Wookiee merely shrugged his shoulders at me.

"I'm glad you're back to normal, Jen." Mission said, filling up a gourd with water from the kitchenette. "It's wizard you can use the Force! I mean, wow. That was something against Juhani, huh? What's it like?"

I blinked at her enthusiasm. "Overpowering, I guess. It can override your thoughts, and your emotions can start controlling everything." I guess that's why Bastila keeps harping on so much. I was so close to killing Juhani. I scowled. I do what I like. No snooty Padawan will tell me otherwise.

"Y'know, you have been a wee bit grumpy, though," Mission commented.

"I didn't exactly have the best of days yesterday," I pointed out.

Mission looked down. "You- you kinda looked like you were losing control. I mean, when you were playing with that lightning. I, uh, I thought you were gonna kill Juhani back then," she said, her voice uncharacteristically timid.

"I almost did. Don't forget, Mission, she tried to kill me," I said coldly.

"Yeah, I suppose," Mission replied, and I strode towards HK-47, sick of the conversation. The droid powered on, red eyes coming to life and focusing on me.

"Statement: I am ready to serve, Master. Permit me to blast some meatbags in your name!"

I smiled. "We're heading out into the desert, HK-47. Provided you don't fall over so quickly this time, there'll be plenty of blasting."

"Observation: My electrical shields are now at a hundred percent capability, since the repairs yesterday. Statement: I will be pleased to show you just how many meatbags I can kill!"

I looked back to Mission and Zaalbar, and jerked my head towards the exit of the ship. They both nodded, and we headed out.

The docking bay was dark still, and mostly empty. There was an ambient warmth to the air, and a dusty smell of desert and sand. As I jumped off the landing platform, a sarcastic voice rapped out from the side: "Going somewhere?"

"Onasi," I acknowledged, facing him with a smirk. "Guess you warheros don't bother with sleep."

The faint light of pre-dawn illuminated the scowl on his face. His chestnut hair was still falling in his eyes. He'd come from the direction of the mechanic bay, and I wondered if he'd been checking up on the ship's repairs. "Must be a trick I'm learning from you, Jen. I can't believe you're all sneaking off again! After what happened yesterday!"

Mission's lekku had fallen flat against her head as she stared down at him from the height of the loading ramp. "We're just going for a walk, that's all! Sheesh, why's everyone on my tail?"

"Statement: Paranoid Has-Been is in target range," HK-47 pointed out, clattering down the ramp.

"You're taking him, too?" Carth snapped, glaring at the robot. "What are you trying to do, give Bastila a heart attack?"

I sniggered despite myself. "Hey, if she wants to get all worked up, let her."

"Fine." He folded his arms, a stubborn look on his face. "If you lot are simply going for a walk, then I might just tag along."

"Y'know, Big Z's already bad enough with all this smothering. You don't have to bother," Mission objected.

"I don't see him stopping you," Carth said flatly.

"(This is a matter of family! Of honour!)" Zaalbar growled loudly behind us.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. If we kept bickering, Bastila was certainly going to wake up, and then the fun would really begin. "Let's just go before the sun sets," I muttered sarcastically, striding towards the Anchorhead gates. I noticed the Dark Jedi corpses from the day before had been cleared away. I wondered idly what clean-up crew had done that. Probably the Jawas sold them as bantha fodder.

"(The sun has not yet risen, Jen Sahara. In fact, one could say it is still set)," Zaalbar informed me helpfully. He has to take everything so literally, doesn't he?

"So, Mission, I hope you know the way. Besides dead south, I mean," I commented as the girl dashed up next to me.

"More or less," she said brightly. "Komad said it was five klicks away. That's walking distance, or we could find some speeders to nab if you want to get there quicker."

"Say what? Five klicks south? Stealing speeders?" Carth's voice had risen to an almost convincing imitation of Bastila. He's not going to stop complaining until someone tells him what's going on, I realized with mounting frustration.

"Suggestion: Paranoid Has-Been could use a memory upgrade. Or a blaster shot to the head. Query: May I administer the latter to him, master?"

"Here's the deal, flyboy." I whirled around, facing him and ignoring HK. Carth was staring at me in incredulity, a mixture of alarm and suspicion on his face. I realized then that Carth had an ability to unnerve me. I don't know where I stand with him, and I don't like it. "Mission's brother is being held captive by the Sand People. We're the rescue team."

"Br-brother?" he stammered, looking over to Mission. His expression softened. "Mission, why didn't you say so? I mean, uh, after Taris..." he trailed off, and Mission looked away.

"I ain't looking for sympathy, okay? I just want to find my brother," she said, and her voice was quiet.

Carth nodded, the compassion clear on his face. "I- fair enough, Mission. I can understand. But surely we should get the others to help?"

I snorted. "Bastila doesn't want either me or Mission outside of the Ebon Hawk."

"That's because you're certifiably insane, Jen," Carth fired at me.

"I bet you say that to all the ladies," I purred, and smirked when I saw I had discomfited him.

"So, you in or not, Carth?" Mission asked. "'Cause Bastila's busy with her little quest today, and I'm going after Griff."

He sighed, looking between me and Mission. "I'll come. Bastila knows where she needs to go, now. She needs my help less than you lot."

"Such faith," I mocked. "Where's Bastila headed, anyway?"

I could feel Carth's frown on my back as I headed into Anchorhead, following Mission.

"The ruins. She's pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. Isn't it what you were hired for in the first place, Jen?"

It is the original mission then. Curious. I wondered exactly what she was after. Had Jen's scholarly background been needed for it at all? Or was that just another ruse?

"So, want to nick some speeders Jen?" Mission asked.

"Nah, let's play it safe." After the harrowing swoop race back on Taris, I wasn't keen to drive anything remotely similar. "Besides, I don't think HK would be comfortable on one."

"Objection: Master, I am-"

"Shut up, HK."

Mission snickered, and even Carth's mouth twitched at my obvious diversion. I carried on towards the large gates of Anchorhead in silence, where a sleepy Czerka guard snapped to attention as we neared. Mission flashed our license, and we strode out on the dunes.

A glint upon the horizon indicated that sunlight was about to break, and I could see a dark shimmer up ahead. Some sort of sandcrawler, no doubt. A Czerka mining mission?

We headed off in silence towards the distant sandcrawler until I felt a drowsy stirring within the bond. "Dammit, Bastila's waking," I muttered.

"Eh?" Mission had obviously caught that. "Why d'ya say that?"

I eyed over the eager Twi'lek as she walked next to me, and wondered whether I should explain things to her. "We have a mind-link, Mission. Don't ask me how it happened, for I have no idea and Bastila certainly hasn't enlightened me." No, that had been a fob-off if ever there was one. It just happened on the Endar Spire while she was looking out for me. I snorted. Yeah, right. I'd seen her all of three times.

"Huh?" Mission blinked at me in confusion. "A mind-link? What's that?"

"A Force bond. We can, sort of, sense each other's emotions. Oh, and she can lecture inside my head at times. Makes my life really enjoyable," I muttered darkly.

Mission wrinkled her nose at me. "I knew it! That must be how she made you act all stupid before!"

I frowned. I couldn't blame that on Bastila, but I wasn't particularly interested in improving the relationship between her and Mission, either.

"Come on, Jen, you can't seriously expected us to believe that," Carth interrupted, before conceding, "although Bastila was acting pretty weird yesterday, come to think of it."

"(This is some sort of honour bond you share with her?)" Zaalbar asked.

"Sheesh, Carth, why d'ya always believe the worst of Jen? Anyone with eyes could see that Bastila was doing some sort of Force thing on her." Mission looked at me in speculation as we continued traipsing through the sand. It was still cool, but the sun's rays were just starting to light upon the top of the dunes. "Though I guess now that you can use the Force, she won't be able to, right?"

"Use the Force? Jen?" Carth spluttered. "What have you been eating, Mission?"

If he doesn't believe me, I could always show him. My fingers twitched. No, it would alert Bastila. Play nice.

"You're such a brainless nerf-herder, Carth! How d'ya think Jen and that weird Dark Jedi got so beaten up, huh?"

"A cat-fight, I assumed-"

"Drop it," I ordered. "Trouble ahead."

Thick smoke was pouring from the sandcrawler, obvious now that we neared it. I could see flashes of blaster fire glint in the distance.

Mission fiddled with the visor she'd equipped, and I noticed it was a different one from yesterday. Definitely more high-tech, with buttons and dials along the side.

"Where did you get that?"

"I just found it lying around," she evaded.

"(I tried to stop her)," Zaalbar grumbled. More searching through Davik's cast-offs in the cargo bay, I suspect. I tried to stifle a grin.

"People being swamped by some sort of robed creature," Mission muttered, fingers on the controls of her visor. "I guess they're probably Sand People, right?"

"Statement: I am ready for action, master," HK said gleefully.

"I just bet you are," I muttered.

"(We should avoid that conflict)," Zaalbar rumbled. He dug his paws into the sand.

"Yeah, I'm with Big Z," Mission agreed. "It looks pretty nasty. Those people are Czerka miners, I reckon. They're losing."

"We can't just leave them to die, though. Not if we can help them," Carth objected.

Looks like I'm the deciding vote. I smirked. Bloodshed it is. "Let's go give them a hand, then. Zaalbar, you and me take the front lines? Just like old times in the sewers, eh?"

"(Do not remind me, Jen Sahara. I did not enjoy the sewers)." Zaalbar paused, unsheathing a vibrosword. He turned to look at me then. "(But you are a good fighter)."

I grinned at the Wookiee, and pulled out my lightsabers. "HK, don't kill any of the miners, alright? They might be grateful for the rescue." And who knows what I could pull from them. Credits, information.

"Where did you get those?" Carth hissed, grabbing my arm. I yanked it away from him, and activated one in sudden anger.

"What do you think Juhani was wielding yesterday, Onasi?" I snapped.

His eyes had turned cold as he stared at me. "You are not playing at being a Jedi. You really will get yourself killed."

My amusement sprang to life as my irritation disappeared. Like one fire flaring into existence while another was immediately doused. Quick and rapid-fire and not emotionally healthy. With a mental wrench, I pushed the nagging feeling away, and forced a grin. "That'll put a load off your mind and Bastila's, I'm sure. Tell you what, if you can catch me before I reach the Sand People, I'll give you the 'sabers." It was a reckless challenge, as he was right next to me. But the Force was there, ready to bend to my will, sparking along the scarlet blades. And I was hungry for some action. The blood called to me.

I broke away, running.

"Jen!" I heard him yell, as I opened myself to the Force. Speed. Come on, I know how to do this. The power flowed through me, familiar and natural.

Jen? Why are you using the Force?

Shut up, Bastila. Life in danger. Shush.

What? Where are you? You haven't gone again?

I'll be back in an hour! If she could lie, then so could I. I pushed the bond to the back of my mind, concentrating on the battle ahead. The world stretched around me, as for once the Force did what I wanted. My old instincts are returning. This is an old trick, I'm sure.

The group of hostile Sand People were decimating the ill equipped miners, and I ran straight towards the middle of the fray. I heard Zaalbar howl in objection behind me, but my momentum carried through me as my primary 'saber sliced through the first primitive.

Angry challenging hoots came from all directions as a group of four Sand People engulfed me. The power pulsated through my veins, my movements unnaturally fast as I dodged and hacked at the soft bodies within range. I threw my off-hand saber at one figure, who collapsed to the ground as the weapon snapped back to my hand. It was a dance of pure power, as my co-ordination and awareness peaked and I found myself predicting the move of every enemy.

Zaalbar, growling, impaled one of the natives on my flank. I heard the buzzing noise of blaster fire come from behind me as the others opened fire.

The heat of battle hummed through me, mingling with the Force. Sweat dripped down the sides of my face as I yelled in battle rage, dodging the primitive gaffi sticks the Sand People flung my way. Mission had thrown us each an energy shield earlier, but I deigned to activate it.

The last two Sand People turned their backs on the surviving miners and attacked me simultaneously. My hand rose and the Force flung out in a wave. They flew backwards onto the sand, and Zaalbar jumped forward to stab one through. The other scrambled to his feet, grunted in protest, and turned to flee. I threw my 'saber again, and he became one corpse of many as the weapon flew home.

I smiled as I surveyed the corpses littered amongst the warming sand. Many had been slain before my arrival, but I'd certainly added to the carnage.

"You should be locked in an institution," Carth muttered as he strode to my side. "Though I saw what you did. That's how you got past the Sith guard on Taris. And the rancor!" His eyes were dark with suspicion. "How- how is that suddenly possible? People don't just suddenly start using the Force like that! You- you're meant to be a damn scholar!"

I gave him a wide-eyed stare. "What, are scholars precluded from having Force powers, Onasi?"

His scowl deepened. "Don't try to evade the issue, Jen. Blast it! This makes no sense. You make no sense! If you could use the Force back on Taris-"

At that, I felt my expression mirror his. "I had no idea what I was doing then-"

"This has got to do with Bastila," he muttered. His brows had lowered, and suspicion sat heavy around him like a thick cloak of fog. "She kept you locked up all night; you and that deranged Cathar. What, is she teaching you the Force, now?"

I shrugged. "That's what she claimed. Myself, I just thought she was just trying to make my life miserable."

I thought I saw a twitch on the side of his mouth before he replaced it with a glare. "I thought it took years of study to even use the Force. How are you suddenly weilding it like an expert?"

"I'd hardly call myself an expert," I muttered. "As to how, why don't you ask Bastila? You might get more answers out of her than I do."

Carth folded his arms, puzzlement warring with his trademark mistrust. "You make it sound as if she's hiding something from you."

"Stars, flyboy, she's hiding things from everyone." I don't have time for this. But I supposed he deserved an explanation. Like he'd believe what I said anyway. Not that I care what he thinks.

"She- this is why you were stationed on the 'Spire," Carth said, his voice lowering. "She must have known you could- but you said you'd barely met her- dammit, Jen, help me out here! None of this stacks up!"

"Thanks for your help!" one of the miners gasped, interrupting Carth's pointed queries and dark looks, and I felt a rush of relief as I turned to face the stranger. He looked overcome with both weariness and gratitude. "I hope there's no more of those animals out there."

Four other miners were huddled in the shade of the smoking sandcrawler. Beyond then, a small group of Jawas tumbled out of the hulking machine, wandering about like a lazy platoon of fire-ants, poking at the damaged rents along the side of the massive transport. I turned my back on Carth, attached the 'sabers back to my belt, and addressed the miner.

"What are you lot doing here anyway?" I asked. He was a middle-aged Human, and his grey eyes with tight with desperation. There were several Czerka-clad corpses behind him, dots in the sand, his fellow workers now at permanent rest. "You're not fighters," I said bluntly, eyeing him over. He was wearing light armour and clutched a standard issue blaster in his hand.

"No," the man rapped out. "We're a group of miners, working for Czerka. I don't think we'll bother holding this position for much longer."

"No, not unless you get some backup," I said dryly.

"Hey, do you know a Twi'lek called Griff?" Mission piped up hopefully as she neared us. The Human eyed her over, and shook his head irritably.

"Never heard of him."

"Oh," Mission's lekku fell flat against her head, conveying disappointment. "He also works for Czerka, and was taken in a Sand People raid two days ago…" her voice trailed off in despair.

"They should all be wiped out. Every last one of them," the man snarled suddenly. "They attacked without any reason! Dozens of them! We're not soldiers, and we lost so many men."

"I'm surprised Czerka didn't outfit you better," Carth said. He was still shooting me dark glances even as he spoke to the miner. "It's a disgrace, if they knew about the threat of these Sand People."

"They tried," the Human said tersely. "The company did arm us, and even set up remote self-powered turrets on the mining route, but... but that just made things worse."

"Worse? How so?" I asked.

"The Sand People took all the Czerka weapons that were supposed to protect our sandcrawlers. I hear they've even set them up around their new enclave, directly to the south. That's why it's so hard to wipe this scum out. Their base is a fortress, a death trap."

My eyes narrowed. "Wonderful," I said dryly. "It's going to be fun getting in then."

"You're headed that way?" the miner asked in surprise. "Take my advice, and don't go there. You won't stand a chance. I- I suppose the only way to avoid the turrets is to sneak in somehow."

"Sneak in?" My eyes flicked to Mission, and she stared at me hopefully.

"The Sand People attack any outsiders they come across," the man told me. "You're crazy if you go ahead, but hey, it's your life. I'm getting out of here before they come back." He turned around to face the straggling remains of his men. "Come on, let's head back."

"What about the sandcrawler, Jimm?" one of the survivors questioned.

"There's no point repairing it just to get attacked again. May as well leave it for the Jawas to salvage."

The disheartened and injured miners left us, trudging wearily back to Anchorhead. Corpses of Sand People and Humans alike littered the desert floor, and I stared at them, an idea forming around in my mind.

"(I do not know if we should proceed. It sounds like certain death)," Zaalbar rumbled in discontent.

"I'm going!" Mission folder her arms stubbornly, glaring at Zaalbar. "You wouldn't leave me out here, would you Big Z?"

"(I would not forsake you Mission. But we need a better plan)."

"The only way to sneak in would be to dress up as Sand People," I murmured as I crouched down, undressing one of the corpses with a grimace. I straightened, picking up the blood stained desert robe. "It may get us inside the base. Mission can disable the turrets then." Though I doubt Zaalbar would fit one of these robes.

"Then that's what we'll do!" Mission piped up determinedly, and ran over to another corpse. "If it's the only way to rescue Griff, then let's do it."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Carth muttered.

I rolled my eyes. "You sound like a bad actor in an equally bad action holovid."

Carth shot me a dry look. "Come on, you want to dress up as these primitives to get inside their base? How crazy is that?"

I walked over to him, and lowered my voice. "If it's the only way to help Mission, then yes, I'll do it. No one's forcing you to tag along, flyboy."

His eyes, dark and intent, stared down at mine in frustration. "I'll help Mission," he said finally. "I suppose someone has to be there to drag you both out of trouble. but after this, Jen, you- or Bastila- have got to give me some answers."

I grinned, and stepped away, not granting that jibe with an answer. Time to get moving. Zaalbar was going to be mightily angry when I told him he couldn't accompany us all the way due to his height and distinctive build. We'll cross that hyperlane when we get to it.

xXx