Hyperspace: III – part two
Carth Onasi:
The Ebon Hawk sailed smoothly into the Tatooine sky, and I felt a perceptible loosening of my shoulders. I'd sent an encrypted message to the Republic base leader on Manaan before take-off, and I was confident of a warm reception there. I wonder if it's still Roland Wann in charge. A smarmy, officious man; he was not someone I had warmed to. He'd always been a little too quick to look out for his own interests. Doesn't matter. Soon we'll be back amongst allies.
Things had been tense for too long, and only here, in the cockpit seat, did I really feel at ease. I'd feel more comfortable if Jen would stop staring at me, though.
Just before we'd launched off, Jen had sailed into the room and deposited herself into the co-pilot's chair. I'd known what was going to happen and groaned inwardly; sure enough, Bastila arrived a minute later asking ever-so-politely if Jen would mind moving. May as well ask for it to snow in Anchorhead, Bastila. She'd ended up walking away in an icy snit.
"You could try being a bit nicer to Bastila, you know," I said mildly. Jen smirked at me, her eyes twinkling. At times like this, I wondered if I was dreaming about the changes in her. She was behaving just as sassy and mercurial as back on Taris. At other times... at other times she seems almost sadistic.
"Why would I do that?" she asked, still grinning at me.
"Because... because..." I floundered. I didn't particularly like Bastila myself, but I knew she meant well, despite all her blasted Jedi secrets. And with Jen playing that let's-switch-personality game, Bastila was kept off-balance and didn't present herself well to others.
For all of Bastila's Jedi experience, she struck me as someone who'd lived a sheltered life. I couldn't imagine her dealing well - or at all - with the galactic acclaim that must have been thrown her way. She was the Order's rising star... a young padawan too gifted and too socially awkward to be leading this mission on her own.
"Because she doesn't exactly have many friends on board," I said finally. While you have a Wookiee and a Twi'lek urchin following you blindly. Ever since the rescue yesterday, Canderous had barely left Jen alone. And Juhani - who barely spoke to anyone - could usually be found dogging Jen's heels. I sighed. Is everyone here crazy? What's so special about that damn woman? I frowned at her in frustration, but she was still aiming a delighted smile directly at me.
"So, who was the guy?" she asked, her voice light and candid.
"Huh?"
"I heard you, talking with Mission last night." Her smile looked a little fake now. "Who were you talking about?"
I could feel my brows lower in renewed irritation. I should have known Jen was listening in. "None of your business," I said tightly, turning my attention back to the controls.I hadn't meant to talk about my past, but I'd hated to see that miserable look on the Twi'lek kid's face, and the words had just stumbled out.
"I'll get it out of you, you know," she responded mildly.
"Drop it." My voice had turned flat and angry, and I fiddled with the readout dials for no reason other than to keep my hands busy and my eyes away from her. As the skies darkened into space, the silence stretched between us. I risked a glance back, certain she'd be staring at me with that exasperating look of curiosity.
But no. She was gazing wide-eyed at the controls, as if she'd never seen them before. Every time I think I'm beginning to peg her, she goes and acts weird on me. I suppressed a sigh, and turned to punch in the coordinates for our next destination.
"Prepare for hyperspace jump," I broadcast over the internal comm, and a second later we were away. The familiar dizziness clenched my stomach. Funny. You'd think after all this time I'd be used to it. Although a momentary nausea was nothing to worry about. I'd heard of people who spent hours afterwards hurling up the contents of their stomach.
Once the hyperjump was complete, my gaze slid back to Jen. She was, still, staring dazedly at the navigational controls.
"What is it?" I asked at last, my curiosity finally breaking.
"I... I've piloted before," she mumbled. "I'm sure of it."
"Piloted before?" I echoed. "Right." I didn't know what to believe anymore. "Just who are you? Supposedly a scholar who can use the Force, pick locks almost as well as Mission, speak more languages than your average Jedi, one of the – no, the craziest melee warrior I've ever had the misfortune to meet, and now you think you can pilot. Is there anything you can't do?"
Humour crinkled her bright eyes as she turned back to me, and damn if she wasn't laughing. "I can't ride a swoop bike well, or play pazaak without cheating. Pretty sure I'm pants at cooking, too." The corners of her mouth were twitching. "But I always knew you liked me underneath all those scowls, Onasi."
"You are so infuriating!" the words wrenched out of me in irritation, and I felt my brows slam down even further. Does she take anything seriously?
Jen's grin widened, and her eyes danced with mischief. "Alright, cool your engines, flyboy. I'd better leave you and your bad mood alone." She stood, chuckling to herself, and made her way out of the cockpit.
I sighed once the hatch swished closed behind her. For some reason, my annoyance didn't dissipate with her departure.
We'll be on Manaan soon, I told myself. Things will calm down. I'll be able to find out what's going on, and we'll all have a break from... from everything. The pleasing thing about Manaan was the forced lack of overt violence. I was sick of Jen rushing crazy into battle and slaughtering everything in her way.
Is that a fair judgment? I'd never seen Jen hurt an innocent. And I'd met other berserkers who were good, law-abiding people; they just erupted with senseless rage and adrenaline in battle - much the same as Jen. But I've never known a berserking Jedi. Aren't emotions like that meant to be dangerous for a Jedi?
But she wasn't a Jedi, was she? No, just someone who's suddenly using the Force and claiming that she can't remember her past.
I needed some answers. Bastila was still being as evasive as a spice smuggling spacer, and I no longer knew why I was following her so faithfully. Because I was assigned to this mission. This may be the most crucial task in the war; it could turn the tide for the Republic. If there is any way I can help with that, I will. But damn it, when was someone going to explain things to me?
At least, on Manaan, I had a few contacts at the Republic base. I'd be able to check in with HQ, and maybe get a little more info. Find out what my orders were now. And if the Jedi request my assistance any further, then I'll make Bastila give me some real answers. Like who Jen Sahara really was. And exactly what significance these mysterious Force ruins had. Why am I always left out of the loop?
Manaan. I'd get some answers on Manaan, damn it.
xXx
HK-47
Start-up System Check
Motoring Functions Online
Memory Core Function... Unable To Access
Audio Sensors ... Online
Optical Sensors ... Online
Tactile Sensors ... Online
Olfactory Sensors ... Online
Gustatory Sensors ... Not Installed
Shielding Function ... Error
... Energy Shields ... 20.38472 percent Capability
... Sonic Shields ... 19.34266 percent Capability
... Electrical Shields ... Offline
Scanning External Environment
Location: Ebon Hawk Engineering Section
3 Organic Meatbags, 1 Droid in Targeting Area
Identification – Jen Sahara (Current Owner), Mission Vao, Zaalbar
Optical Sensors Focusing on Droid
Analysis: Unknown Droid
Model: T3 Series, Droid
Model Recognition Result: Negative
Threat Assessment: Minimal
Assigned Temporary Name: Mobile Trash Can
Input – Jen Sahara: "What's your status, HK?"
Output: "Response: It appears that the damage to my primary motor functions has been corrected. My electrical shields are completely destroyed, master. My sonic and energy shields are down to twenty percent capability."
Input – Jen Sahara: "Good. Zaalbar, help me back here? I want to take a look at the shield controls."
Intrusion Detected: Rear Panel Opening
Threat Assessment: Negative
Input – Jen Sahara: "HK, think we could take a look at your memory core while we are at it?"
Output: "Response: You will need to access my central control cluster to do so, master. My own internal diagnostic checks have failed to discover the source of this error. Cautionary: This may take some skill. Please be careful with my circuits."
Input – Zaalbar (Shyriiwook): "The power supply to electrical shields is completely destroyed. See here? It is good we bought a new one. Shall I install it for you, Jen?"
Input – Jen Sahara: "Please."
Removal of Non Functional Electrical Shield Power Supply Detected
Installation of Functional Electrical Shield Power Supply Detected
Input – Jen Sahara: "Alright, HK, I'm activating the electrical shields."
Electrical Shields Powering Up
Shields Diagnostic
Shielding Function... Error
... Energy Shields... 20.38472 percent Capability
... Sonic Shields... 19.34266 percent Capability
... Electrical Shields... 100 percent Capability
Output: "Statement: My electrical shields have been fully restored, master. That was a good effort for a hairy overgrown meatbag."
Input – Zaalbar: (Irritated Howl)
Input – Jen Sahara: "Why do you call everyone meatbags, HK?"
Voice Stress Analysis: Amused
Output: "Explanation: It's just that... you have all these squishy meat parts, master. And all that water! How the constant sloshing doesn't drive you mad, I have no idea."
Input – Mission Vao: "Squishy meat parts? Sheesh, you could at least be polite, y'know."
Output: "Query: Perhaps you would prefer the term liquidious fleshbag?"
Input – Mission Vao: "Oh, shut up. Hey, I wonder what this does."
Input – Zaalbar to Mission Vao (Shyriiwook): "No! Mission, not that wire!"
Visual Input: Blue
Optical Sensors Overload
Input – Mission Vao: "Uh, oops."
Activating Self Preservation Protocols...
Adjusting Targeting System to Audio Triangulation
Searching For Weapon...
Motor Function Error
Light Impact Detected – Location: Left Optical Socket
Source: HK-47
Output: "Exclamation: Ow! I am poking my own eye sockets! Ow! What has she done to me?!"
Input – Jen Sahara: "Zaalbar, quick, deactivate him!"
Power Lost
.../some time later/...
Startup System Check
Motoring Functions Online
Memory Core Function... Unable To Access
Audio Sensors ... Online
Optical Sensors ... Online
Tactile Sensors ... Online
Olfactory Sensors ... Online
Gustatory Sensors ... Not Installed
Shielding Function ... Online
... Energy Shields ... 100 Capability
... Sonic Shields ... 100 Capability
... Electrical Shields ... 100 Capability
Scanning External Environment
Location: Ebon Hawk Engineering Section
3 Organic Meatbags in Targeting Area
Identification – Jen Sahara (Current Owner), Zaalbar, Canderous Ordo
Input – Jen Sahara: "HK? You alright now?"
Output: "Response: I am fully func..zzz"
Audio Transmission Error
Motor Function Error
Internal Diagnostic check:
... Limbs Non Functional
Input – Zaalbar: (Howl)
Moderate Impact Detected – Location: Rear Panel
Source: Zaalbar
Combat Mode Initiated:
Interrupt:
...Motor Functions Powering Up... 100 Online
...Audio Transmission Powering Up... 100 Online
Return to Main
Exiting Combat Mode
Output: "Response: I seem to be back online, master."
Input – Jen Sahara: "Right. Uh, let's take a break before we install that mod you bought for him, Canderous."
Voice Stress Analysis: Weary
Input – Canderous Ordo: "Might be a good idea to keep the kid away from here."
Input – Jen Sahara: "Switch to standby, HK. We'll do the rest later."
Output: "As you desire, master. Signing off."
Entertainment Routine Initiated:
Target Analysis:
Type: Organic Meatbag
Species: Twi'lek, Female
Name: Mission Vao
Occupation: Insignificant Member of the Ebon Hawk Crew
Death Scenario: Blaster Shot to Head...
xXx
Karon Enova:
I sighed softly, staring out through the cockpit window at the blue skies of Rii'shn, a small planet I'd brought my apprentice along for a little adventure. Our business was now wrapped up, and my thoughts were drawn back to a conversation I'd had merely ten hours ago.
I'd known, one way or another, that the past would come back to haunt me once more, or to drag me back into its murky grip... I may have prepared for it, but I didn't feel ready. Here I am, a master for the last twenty or so years, having doubts and fears like a padawan.
"Master?" a young male voice asked behind me. I schooled my expression and turned around in the pilot's chair, smiling briefly at Lars. After my shattering failure with Revan, I'd vowed never to take an apprentice again. Look at me now.
Lars had been with the Jedi Order for eight years already, but in many ways was still a very green padawan. His original master, my old friend Tyrias, had been one of the many casualties of my former apprentice, and perhaps my guilt was the reason I had finally agreed to mentor Lars.
"Lars," I acknowledged. "Everything loaded onto the ship?"
"Yes. We're ready to leave. Are we heading back to Coruscant?" he asked brightly. There was something almost dreamy about Lars; at times I'd wondered whether he'd ever been touched by tragedy in his life. He hadn't held a particularly close relationship with Tyrias, and had not felt much pain when Tyrias joined the Force. That is what I see on the outside. I should not judge what goes on inside Lars' mind. And yet I worried for the day that Lars would finally feel the grief of losing a loved one, or the pain of betrayal. He had few true friends, despite his happy, ambivalent nature. Others do not warm to him because he's always dreaming, always lost inside his own head. He should have been an artist, not a Jedi.
I smiled at Lars, and motioned him forward. "No. We will rest first, and then we are headed to Manaan."
xXx
Juhani
"Juhani. We should talk," Revan said, her eyes piercing into mine as she slouched in the doorframe. Ever since I had learned the truth, I did not want to leave her side. I could sense a dark taint struggling to take root in her body, and her struggle was so familiar that I wanted to weep.
The Ebon Hawk had lifted into hyperspace hours earlier, and my place was in the women's sleeping quarters, much to my disappointment. It was not a good den for me, as I wished not to be around others. The Twi'lek kit was wary of me and I could not blame her. The men, also; Carth Onasi and Zaalbar looked at me with heavy suspicion, and Canderous Ordo was one of those genocidal murderers.
Although, I had been surprised how well we had fought together. While the thought of living in close quarters with a Mandalorian had at first stirred the rage in my soul, it was his very regard of Revan that forced me to rethink my opinion of him. For it had been Revan who had broken his people, and yet he looked upon his conqueror with respect and interest.
The Mandalorians had slaughtered the Cathar, whilst Revan had merely defeated the Mandalorians - but still, it had made me reflect. Surely, I could look at him in the same light as he did Revan: as an individual rather than a symbol of his people.
But it was not Canderous who was dominating my thoughts. How could it be, now that I knew Revan's true identity?
I motioned for her to walk inside the port living quarters and close the door. Bastila had warned me earlier against an affiliation with Revan, but I could not do what she wished. While I had promised not to initiate a conversation with Revan that might be... incriminating, I could not lie to her, should she ask. I am grateful to Bastila for her continued help with my inner struggle; she is an honourable Jedi. But she did not understand my feelings. Revan saved me; once from slavery, and now from the Dark Side. I cannot forsake her.
I had been barely more than a kit when Revan and her followers landed on Taris, vanquished the slave trade, and revolutionised the healthcare and education systems. I knew not how long her influence had lasted; when I had recently visited Taris, it seemed like little remained. But Revan had freed me and many others, and it was one of her Jedi allies who had discovered my Force sensitivity and sent me on to Dantooine. I felt a small, wistful smile on my face as I thought of Jedi Knight Meetra Surik. She had been the very epitome of goodness and warmth, so different from my master, and yet in some ways our brief meeting had shaped me and my aspirations as much as my time spent with Master Quatra had.
Revan walked in cautiously; I could see the wary mistrust on her face. I knew I was not impervious to falling back into the clutches of the Dark Side, and I knew the same was true for her, even more so. Perhaps I could redeem myself by guiding Revan back to the light. I wished then, irrationally, that I was the one bonded to her. I can help her better than Bastila. I understand her. I could tell that all Bastila did was irritate the volatile woman.
"What is it you wish to talk about?" I asked softly.
"The Force," she smiled at me, but it did not reach her eyes. "What else? You still owe me Force lessons."
"Of course." She was so hard, so suspicious; but somewhere in her was the charismatic, good Jedi she had once been. "I vowed to you I would help you, and I shall. As much as I am able."
"No waffling on about that stupid code..." she warned in a deadly tone.
A smile flicked on my face. "I remember my trials with the code. I threw a rather childish tantrum because I could not recite it, and my master confined me to solitary meditation. I was not allowed to see anyone but her, nor eat anything bar gruel and water, until I could recall it fluently and prove my understanding was complete."
Revan's expression lifted, and her mouth curved into an amused grin. "That sounds a bit harsh for a kid."
"My master had harsh ways." I did not want to dwell on that topic. Bastila had told me the truth about Quatra, and my thoughts were still too tender and emotive on that subject to explore. I should have realized I could not kill a master. But that it was all a test, all the misery I'd gone through... Quatra had warned me I felt too strongly about her, too intensely. Is that why she used it against me?
It was hard to hold back my bitterness at her. I could not deny that there was still a part of me that wished to flee, to be independent and strong and alone from all sentient relationships, and Quatra had somewhat to do with that. But fleeing had not helped me any. At the end of it, I had been miserable on Tatooine. And while the Dark Side offered quick power through the fury of one's emotions, I no longer believed it was worth the inner torment.
"What do you know of Force bonds?" Revan asked as she sat down next to me on the hard bunk. A coarse, woven blanket covered the thin mattress, and she plucked at it absently.
"Like the one you share with Bastila?" I replied. "I do not know much of them. I know they are rare and vary in strength and intensity, and the gifts that are part of it differ with the strength of the link."
"Gifts," Revan muttered darkly. "Hah! See if you'd like Bastila inside your head permanently. I don't want to go to sleep. I-" She cut short her rambling, frowning as she mulled over something. "Could Bastila see my dreams? I wondered something the other night..."
"Yes," I answered truthfully. I would not lie to her. I owed her too much.
"How do I block her out of my mind, Juhani?" Revan asked, gritting her teeth. I could hear the frustrated anger in her voice.
"I thought you were already doing that?" I frowned.
"I- I suppose I have been, at times. I wasn't entirely certain how well I had succeeded though."
"I do know that one of the fundamental cornerstones of a Force bond is privacy. You have to be able to trust enough to allow each other privacy. Inside your head." I remembered hearing a talk from an older master who had formed a mind-link with an apprentice of his once. He had said the biggest challenge was giving each other space.
"Oh, sure, I can trust Bastila," Revan muttered sarcastically. "About as far as I'd trust a Hutt."
"I do not know what else to tell you, Jen."
"How do I stop her cutting me off from the Force?" She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes. I stiffened, and felt my eyes widen in surprise.
"She can cut you off from the Force? Are you certain, Jen?" Her face was serious, intent, and not a little bit angry. "I did not know that was possible."
"Hmm," Revan murmured, leaning away from me and stretching her good arm above her head. Her other forearm, newly set, was resting in her lap. Although Revan had started using it against Bastila's vehement protests, it appeared weak, thin and purple with mottled bruising. "Well, maybe you can explain how these bonds are created," Revan continued. "Bastila gave me some weak story, and it just didn't ring true. I'd barely seen her on the Endar Spire. I think. It's all a bit hazy."
I tensed; this was heading to unsteady ground. But it is Bastila's lies, not mine. "From what I recall, bonds can be created in three ways. The first is the most common; it can occur between two Jedi working together for a long time. They gradually become sensitive to each other through the Force, and over time a weak mind-link may grow. Even so, it happens rarely."
"And the other two ways?"
I hesitated briefly. "If two Jedi were – intimate, then it is possible for a mind-link to be created. Unlikely, as the very intimacy is frowned upon by the Jedi Council. The third way is-"
A knock on the door interrupted my dialogue, and I looked up as Bastila opened the automatic door. I wondered briefly why I wished she had not appeared. An emotion I couldn't identify smouldered in her grey eyes as she glanced between us both, huddled as we were on the bed and deep in conversation.
"Juhani, Jen," Bastila acknowledged, in a calm tone that betrayed nothing. "Perhaps it is time we talked more about the Force."
"Enough talk," Revan disagreed smoothly, getting to her feet. "Juhani, want to have a duel? There's space in that empty hangar. I'd qui-"
"Duel?" Bastila cut in, her voice rising. She took a deep breath, and visibly appeared to calm herself. "Your arm is too damaged, Jen. Also, there is much you should learn, before you start using the Force physically, and I-"
"That's too bad. Juhani?" Revan looked at me, and I saw an odd plea in her eyes. She does not wish to spend time with Bastila. Perhaps if we fought, I could help her control the darker side of her emotions, help contain her anger.
"Certainly," I agreed, and Bastila scowled. "Maybe you could watch us and point out our weaknesses, Bastila," I suggested, more to quiet the younger Jedi than anything else. This caused Revan to glare at me, and I wondered what I was doing. I feel sorry for Bastila. And yet I wish I was in her place. I do not understand myself at times.
"Fine," Bastila stated, folding her arms. Revan rolled her eyes and stalked out of the room.
xXx
Saul Karath:
I scowled at the incoming text transmission, skimming through the details as they appeared on my console. Lord Malak will not be pleased. To offer such a vast sum to a foreign society, and have it half-turned down... I did not wish to be the one who relayed such news. The commodore who'd informed Lord Malak about Calo's defeat did so with a smirk on her face, bumbling idiot that she was. It may have been merely amusement at the thought of a famous bounty hunter being taken out by unknowns – for Bastila Shan's presence was not common knowledge – but Malak had not appreciated such candid mirth.
The poor sap had to be scraped off the floor by the cleaning crew, in the end.
Malak never used to be so gratuitously violent. Causing pain for a purpose was fine, necessary at times - but Malak often took destruction to an absurd level. This was an experienced commodore – who'd required discipline, certainly – but we were not so flooded with officers that we could afford to splatter their innards all over the command deck at the first sign of impropriety.
It wasn't particularly good for morale, either.
Only after Malachor did Malak start to show his sadistic side. And only after he betrayed his master did it truly flourish.
I was glad I hadn't known of Malak's plans to fire on Revan's flagship the previous year, for surely I would have picked the losing side. But now, as a puppet of the incumbent Jedi, Revan herself was next to useless.
Those first years serving under Lord Revan had been all I'd dreamed of. I wasn't sure when my respect became laced with fear, but I'd never denied her competency. She'd been sharp, charismatic, and willing to listen to the experts she surrounded herself by.
I'd genuinely believed that one day we would see her vision of galactic efficiency come to life. Peace and order - imposed, if necessary, on those that did not know any better – while remaining steadfast and strong. An external threat like the Mandalorians – or worse – could not be allowed to shake the Core again.
Now, under Malak, the vision had slipped. It was not so much that I doubted his chances of success, no; more that I was uneasy where or how his victory would end.
I cannot deny he has edged into insanity. Or that Revan began to, also, near the end.
I heard the swish of the command doors opening behind me, and the noise of troopers standing hurriedly to attention. Contain your thoughts, I warned myself. For both Malak and Revan had shown signs of limited mind-reading. I'd been trained on how to shield against the psychic probes of Force-users, but it was not an infallible defense.
Personally, I believed the universe would be a far better place without the cursed Force.
"Ah, Admiral. Any news?" Malak's deep, metallic voice intoned. I turned around and bowed hurriedly.
"My lord, I have just received word from the GenoHaradan."
Malak folded his arms; his yellow, soulless eyes appraising me dispassionately. The ex-Jedi Kylah Aramai stood simpering at his side, and I took care to contain my grimace. For all intents and purposes, she was Malak's willing pet. The rest of Malak's top Dark Jedi had elements of intelligence or strategic brilliance about them – even if Bandon was an immature chivhole – but I hoped Lord Malak would soon see that the painted harlot strutting next to him had outlived her usefulness the day she'd betrayed the Endar Spire to Bandon's task force.
"Well?" Malak snapped.
"They have accepted only one of the contracts, my lord. The one on Jen Sahara."
Blind fury crested in his eyes. "I offered them enough to buy a planet!" His fists clenched, and I saw Kylah take a hesitant step backwards. I bowed my head quickly, and Malak took an advancing step towards me.
The silence crackled with palpable tension as I kept my eyes focused on the ground at Malak's feet. How I abhor this pathetic grovelling! Two years ago Malak had been prone to outbursts of violence, but never unnecessary slaughter. He'd been a sharp man, once. The Force and its light and dark sides. It makes them all go insane.
"Come on, Saul, I would not hurt you for this." Malak voice had turned soft with mockery. And yet, I did not feel reassured. "The GenoHaradan, however, have insulted me with this refusal. But we shall deal with them in due course."
He wants to take on the GenoHaradan? A chill stepped down my spine. Revan had always been reckless, impulsive; but these days Malak took that to new heights. To think that, years ago, he'd been the steadier of the two.
"I'll have to deal with the Battle Meditation brat myself. Sooner or later, she'll stop on one of the other planets. Manaan first, I'd wager. She's still on the run, she'll be desperate for a safe place. My forces can go after her there."
"Manaan? But the Selkath don't tolerate-"
The words died in my throat as I stared into his eyes. They seemed to glow with a fevered, crazed gleam of poisoned yellow. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you believe the Selkath are a match for my power, Saul?"
"No, my lord," I said. And still, I could not stop myself from saying more. I'd been valued for my advice, once. "Overt violence on Manaan could cause the Selkath to deny us access to the kolto, my lord."
He was silent for a long moment, still staring at me with those damned eyes. In my periphery, I could see Kylah scowling petulantly at me, and wondered, with a chill, if my years of experience and warfare were going to be replaced by a sneering child whose greatest strength appeared to be showcasing her sexuality.
"Your counsel has its uses, Saul. But you are better off leading our starships. Leave the politics to me." And with a patronising chuckle, Lord Malak clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You do not see the grand design, Admiral, nor do you grasp that the power of the Star Forge far eclipses the kolto trade. Our biggest threat remains Bastila Shan – and my old master – and thus we go after them. On Manaan, those Republic weaklings believe Selkath neutrality will protect them, and that will lure Bastila Shan there first. That, and the Star Map. Neither she nor her allies will expect an attack there."
I took care to couch my next words neutrally. "My lord, if the Selkath allow the Republic sole access to the kolto, it will give them a great advantage." He would attack on Manaan, and endanger our kolto supply? Not even Revan would throw such a potential gift to the enemy, no matter how confident of victory she was!
Malak's fingers ground into my shoulder; a warning of his growing irritation. His grip bit deep, and I couldn't hold back a grunt of protest.
"Enough, Admiral!" His words lashed like a whip. "I value you, but not enough to tolerate insubordination."
Malak thrust me away sharply, and I staggered back a step. It took some effort to keep my expression blank. There was a painful ache in my shoulder that matched the discontent in my soul. I'd seen Malak do a lot worse to others, and knew that any more discussion on this topic would be nothing more than playing roulette with my life.
"Kylah." Malak turned to face his quiet pet.
"Yes, master?" she purred in response. I rolled my shoulder, and grimaced as pain spiked down my back.
"Pick out ten Dark Jedi. Do not interfere with the GenoHaradan's plans. You are to go after Bastila Shan. Capture her if you can, eliminate her if you can't. If it means infiltrating the Republic base and angering those pathetic Selkath – then so be it."
Kylah bowed low, her dark red robes touching the ground.
"This is your chance to prove your strength to me, my dear." Malak's mechanical voice deepened as it lowered, one gloved finger trailing down the fallen Jedi's cheek. Her red lips curved as it brushed against them. "Succeed, and you will stand equal with the best of my Dark Jedi."
"I will not fail you, my lord," she murmured, her cheek resting against his hand. My stomach tightened with distaste and I made sure to avert my gaze at the unwelcome intimacy of the moment.
"We shall see." There was a swish of cloth as Malak spun, abrupt and sudden, his words firing like frozen missiles as his voice iced over. "I shall be most displeased if I have to recall Bandon and Yudan to sort this out because you are not up to the task, Kylah."
Personally, I wondered whether Lord Malak should have sent Bandon Stone or Yudan Rosh when he'd first heard of Bastila's escape and Revan's flawed resurrection. Contain your thoughts, I reminded myself again. And, truly, there were reasons to keep the cleverer of Malak's top Dark Jedi away. Yudan's leadership is required on the frontlines. And Bandon has his hands full breaking the last set of prisoners. I grimaced in distaste. In many ways, Bandon Stone was a little too good at emulating his master.
When it came right down to it, a runaway Bastila Shan and a mind-broken ghost should have been an easy coup for a renowned bounty hunter – or the trio of Dark Jedi Malak had sent on his tail.
"No more mistakes," Malak commanded with finality as he strode away. "I want them both - dead or alive!"
There was trepidation on Kylah's heavily painted face, even beneath the smirking confidence. I once more had to drag my gaze away before she noticed - even as I hated myself for it.
In another galaxy- in a better galaxy- in a galaxy without the damned Force- simpering chits like Kylah Aramai would have been completely beneath my notice.
I turned, with effort, and forced my concentration back to the navi-panels of the heavy cruiser.
xXx
Yudan Rosh
"We're losing our hold on Ando, my lord," Admiral Sara said, her bulbous eyes blinking up at me. "With the rebellion at Bothawui, our stranglehold on the Rodian corridor is getting shaky."
I should care. I should care more than I did. "Retreat from Ando," I said, staring blankly at the holo-map of the adjoining sectors. "Send half the Nova fleet back to Bothawui. As for the remainder: position them a hundred klicks into the Gerrix asteroid belt."
Sara stifled a gasp, but when I turned to look at her, the Sullustan's face was blank. I did not appreciate emotion. I did not feel it, and did not wish to see it in others.
"My lord," she began hesitantly. "There will be casualties-"
"Yes," I said coldly. "Such is war. Lord Malak will send reinforcements. In the meantime, the asteroid belt is a perfect location to ambush any Republic fleet exiting hyperspace around Ando."
We might lose Ando, for a time. It was more strategic to hold onto Bothawui, and so I would send what was needed. The rest might as well take out what Republic chaff they could with their own deaths.
Once, I'd cared about losses. Once, I cared about people. Now all I felt was the icy core of the Force; frozen and boreal and never-ending in its frigidity.
The sound of the bridge door swishing open and a half-dozen Sith guards snapping to attention had me turning.
The visitor should have been a welcome surprise, but detachment of the dark cloaked me like a second skin.
"Yudan," she murmured, walking closer, yellow eyes sharp on me. My old friend. My old comrade. The last survivor of the damned Jedi Thirteen-
Other than myself. Other than Malak.
"Nisotsa," I drawled. "I thought you were busy on Korriban presenting younglings to Uthar Wynn."
Nisotsa Organa was wasted in recruitment. Sometimes, I idly believed that Malak only placed her there to elicit a reaction. But over the years, Nisotsa had retreated into caution at the bloody games we Sith played. She didn't dare raise any objection these days. Whatever fire she'd once had was long snuffed out.
Whereas I- I no longer felt a thing.
Sometimes I wondered if I would even feel my own death.
"Leave us," Nisotsa snapped at Sara, her tight gaze roving over the comm techs and Sith officers flanking us. Sara's round eyes moved to mine, seeking permission, which I granted with a sharp nod.
Nisotsa remained silent as the bridge cleared of all personnel, Admiral Sara included.
"We were in the middle of a strat meeting, Nisotsa," I said coldly. I wouldn't tolerate this sort of interference from many- but we had known each other for too long. Fought together, bled together, sworn fealty together-
Yes, but she betrayed your true master, an inner voice mocked. Her and Arran Da'klor and that braggart Bandon Stone.
And Malak.
A flicker of rage struggled to ignite deep within the ice, but it soon winked out. I couldn't fault Nisotsa. Treachery was part of a Sith's life: the machinations we all devolved into, as our pointless existence served nothing but the corrupted will of the Force. Nisotsa, at least, had exhibited her intelligence by keeping me ignorant of the Deralian plot.
For I would have betrayed her, betrayed all of them in kind, had I known-
Had I known- The what-if's were poisonous in their never-ending taunts. What if I had known? What if I had told Revan, what if she'd actually survived and taken Malak out instead?
And there was only me left, at her side-
But Revan had used me to keep her apprentice in line; leashed us both, in the end, to her will with twin bonds of jealousy and lust, until I could no longer separate the difference between love and hate-
It was second-nature, now, to force those wild thoughts down. I preferred the icy numbness of the dark. The cold, unfeeling dark.
"Have you heard from Malak?" Nisotsa asked, her voice sharp and short.
I had. A short message, direct and to the point. An order to hold station, hold the frontlines- no matter what wild rumours might catch my ears. A delayed comm, dripping with command and overt threats. It would mean my life, should I abandon my post.
Obviously something had rattled Malak. Whatever these supposed rumours were, I hardly cared. I would play out the game of war here, as ordered, in a cold echo of a glorious, golden past: where I had once taken pride in leading Republic Fleets against the Mandalorian scourge.
"Yes. Nothing more than a command to stay here," I replied, eyeing over my old acquaintance. "Not that I had any other plans."
She bit her lip. An uncommon gesture of uncertainty, even for her. "Bandon dropped by at the Academy, to cull another lot of Adepts," she murmured. "He- you know he led the attack on the Endar Spire?"
I raised an eyebrow, waiting. Bandon Stone was an egotistical tool with a greater depth of Force power than perhaps any, save Malak. Between him and that strutting ex-Jedi harlot, Kylah Aramai, our Lord appeared to be surrounding himself with posturing children.
Sometimes I could still feel the harsh ferracrete bite into my knees as I pledged loyalty to Darth Malak, even as my heart had blindly refused to believe that she could really be dead-
"Bandon will be coming here, Yudan, to tell you himself. No doubt he'll get a frakking kick out of it. I thought- we've known each other so long- I wanted to warn you-" Nisotsa was almost stuttering, uncertainty and fear warring in those flawed eyes that once shone with silver intelligence.
"Let me know what?"
"I don't have it verified- rumours, only, from that chivhole's big mouth- but Malak ordered me to stay away no matter what I heard-"
"What?" I bit out, suddenly impatient. This was it, then, whatever had prompted our master's cryptic demands. And Nisotsa thought it important enough to warn me- what did I have to do with it?
"It's about Revan," she whispered, yellow gaze fixed on mine with a distinct measure of reluctance.
I felt my jaw tighten, and clenched hard on the Force before it spiralled out of my control. Revan was dead. I would not allow her to have such a hold on me from beyond the grave. I would not.
"You mentioned the Endar Spire," I forced the words out. Kept them cold, emotionless. "I take it this concerns Bastila Shan, then."
Bastila Shan. That famous padawan the holonets claimed had been the end of Darth Revan, even as the Sith Empire attributed Revan's demise to her old lover.
We had all loved her, in different ways. And, one by one, our loyalty had corroded into something darker.
There were times when I thought that perhaps if I had known, I would have thrown my lot in with Nisotsa and Arran- been one of the hapless idiots to challenge her on Deralia, died by her blade maybe, as a means of showing her that even the staunchest of followers, the most devoted of allies, could only take so much-
But I knew it for the falsehood it was. Malak had found the strength – or the rage – to betray her. I never had, much as I cursed myself for it.
"Yes," Nisotsa admitted. Her eyes narrowed with displeasure. Whatever the news was, Nisotsa didn't like it. "Bastila Shan didn't kill her, Yudan."
"Oh?" I raised a brow, finding myself suddenly bored of the whole debacle. Nisotsa was too easily rattled. She'd always been cautious, but these days it bordered on a twitchy fear that was hardly advantageous to her standing amongst the Sith. "I never expected that over-hyped padawan to have laid the death-blow on Revan."
I would say her name without any emotion. Revan meant nothing to me anymore. Dead was dead.
"Yudan!" Nisotsa hissed, her eyes flashing with a passion I rarely felt these days. "Malak didn't kill her either!"
My heart stopped. My thoughts froze. There was a roaring sound in my head.
"Who did, then?" I was barely aware of the words as they rasped from my lungs. Bastila Shan had boarded the Nexus with two masters who'd died by Revan's hand, or so the stories said. Maybe one of them had-
She's dead. She must be dead. She has to be-
Nisotsa's face was grey. But resentment glittered in her eyes, and a very real fear. A fear of someone-
Revan had killed Arran Da'klor when he betrayed her on Deralia, but Nisotsa remained unscathed from her treachery.
She's dead. She must be-
"She's not dead. Bandon says Bastila Shan captur-"
Everything morphed into a haze of red and black. The glaciers shifted as cracks of searing fury sliced through them, a deep rage and passion so hot it was entirely overwhelming-
"Yudan! Yudan! Frakk it, let me go!" Nisotsa was screaming.
Slowly, slowly, my vision coalesced into a shaky sort of sense. The Force was a whipcord of rage, holding my old comrade tight against a durasteel bulkhead with nothing more than the black passion of my emotions.
I struggled to keep my chokehold on the Force tight, pressing Nisotsa hard against the wall, feeling the dark power lash out uncontrollably underneath my grasp.
"What do you mean?" I hissed through gritted teeth. My jaw was clenched so tight it felt like it could snap. "How in all the hells of the galaxy can she still be alive?"
"Bandon says-" she choked. "For frakk's sake, Yudan, let me go!"
"Tell me!" I raged. The cold had vanished, and in its place burned a decalescent fury so hot it could be the fiery core of a sun.
"The Jedi have her! They've- they've brainwashed her or some rot! She thinks she's some scholar, and Bastila Shan is leading her around like a frakking kath hound on a leash!"
It made no sense. My mind blanked, and I took a stumbling step backwards.
"Scholar," I echoed. "Brainwashed. Start making sense, Nisotsa! How can Darth Revan both live and believe she is a simple scholar?"
At some stage, the dark Force weaves had loosened against her frame, and Nisotsa took a faltering step away from the bulkhead, her gaze suspicious and edgy as it remained pinned on me.
"I only know what that chivhole Bandon told me," Nisotsa muttered. "Bastila Shan supposedly captured her above Deralia, and the Order wiped her mind. She doesn't remember a damn thing, and is following Bastila Shan around like a meek little hood-mouse."
Darth Revan... alive. And wholly ignorant of her crimes against humanity itself.
And the Order had dabbled in something that sounded an awful lot like what the Sith would do-
A falsehood? A pretence at redemption? There was no redemption for the likes of Darth Revan. There was none for any of us.
The fire died abruptly; snapping back into the frozen glacier of old.
I stared hard at Nisotsa. Sometimes, I could still see my friend as the Jedi Knight she once was. Golden-haired and simmering with intelligence and righteousness. The same as us all, before we had followed Revan into perdition.
Once, I had been a strong Jedi Knight, a warrior for peace and justice. That man was long dead and buried, incinerated in the ashes of evil. A bitter grief rose inside me, a hatred for Darth Revan, for that spectre who had destroyed everyone in her orbit- even Revan Freeflight herself.
And I found, at that moment, that maybe I did have the same strength as Malak.
It was long past time for Darth Revan to die.
"Malak's ordered us to stay out of it," Nisotsa muttered, rubbing at her throat, bitterness clouding her corrupted gaze as she glared at me. "Don't do anything frakking stupid, Yudan. Malak's dealing with this personally. Don't give him a reason to kill you, too."
"Understood," I bit out. "Provided Malak actually succeeds, I'll toe the line."
If not... if not, then even the wrath of my gods-cursed master wouldn't stop me from interfering.
xXx
Jen Sahara:
"What are you up to, Mission?" I asked, leaning against the durasteel wall of the Ebon Hawk's central room. The Twi'lek girl was all alone apart from her faithful astromech, and appeared to be tinkering with the ship's communication system. Somehow, I didn't think she was engaged in planned maintenance.
The others were all asleep. Although day and night were meaningless in hyperspace, we all tuned ourselves in to Galactic Standard Time, which was based on Coruscant's meander around its only sun. Currently it was the dead of night, but I'd woken from an uneasy sleep with a latent anger burning inside me. I couldn't recall my dreams, but I knew they hadn't been pleasant.
Mission jumped up, hiding the screen she'd been viewing with her back. A guilty blush rose in her cheeks. "Uh, nothing. Nothing really." Teethree whistled something next to her, and the Twi'lek shot him a quick glare.
I grinned. "Don't let Onasi see you tinkering around with his baby," I warned.
Mission wrinkled her nose. "I'm just- I'm just trying to keep myself busy, y'know?" Her headtails twitched, and then her shoulders sagged in desolation. "After Taris, and all that death, and now Griff- well, I don't really want to think about it anymore. I can't sleep and- and, I, well..." She sighed hopelessly, looking at the little droid for encouragement. He beeped and whirled, sidling closer.
I felt a sharp pang at the miserable look on her face. Despite my intentions, despite my firm will to care for no one, I could not help but worry for the girl. Innocence lost. I remember that feeling. Did I? From where? I racked my memories, but they shied away, vanishing into the murky realm of oblivion that was my past.
I shook my head irritably, and focused on the Twi'lek once more. "So, find anything interesting?" I drawled.
She shot me a return grin, and motioned me forwards. "Yeah, I've been looking at the comm log of the Ebon Hawk. Gee, Davik sure was slime! I never thought I'd say this about anyone, but I'm glad he's dead."
I walked forward, eyeing over the console. Mission had pulled up a list of video signals alongside a supply chart. I felt my lip curl in disgust when I saw purchase orders for several Twi'lek dancing girls.
"You were lucky, in a way, back on Taris," I mused. "It could have turned out so much worse for you, being a pretty young Twi'lek." The thought of Mission being enslaved to the likes of Davik stirred up my dormant anger. Why do I care? Why am I spouting this kath crap?
"Hey, I took care of myself plenty fine!" Mission retorted, her voice sharp and a mulish pout appearing on her face.
"I didn't mean it like that," I said, my eyes narrowing. "Just that-"
"Yeah, yeah I know." Mission sighed. "I just get enough of this 'you're too young' attitude from everyone. Sorry."
I snorted. "You've more than convinced me of your skills." I turned my attention back to the active console. "Anything interesting in the vid comms?"
"Nah," Mission replied. "Just scummy deals and the like. I'd gotten depressed watchin' them all before you came along, actually."
"Looks like he was quite busy in the spice trade before the Sith quarantine on Taris," I commented. The more recent entries were all matched with glitterstim and giggledust, and Davik no doubt made a pretty chit on that. My eyes travelled to the end, and then widened in surprise. "Hang on," I said softly.
"What?" Mission leaned in next to me, looking where I pointed. "That's gotta be Carth's transmission to his uppity officers, right? It's the date we left Tatooine."
"The one before that." My voice had dropped to a quiet whisper. It was an outgoing comm, but not tagged or categorized in any way. "Dated our last night on Tatooine."
Mission turned to frown at me. "I dunno who did that. Shall I play it?"
I nodded, and her hands flew over the controls. A few seconds later and an illuminated figure rose in front of us, a look of inquiry dissolving into surprise. My breath froze in my lungs. Icy fingers tap-danced down my spine. Who is that? The figure was an old female Zabrak, dressed in plain Jedi robes. Her turquoise eyes were a startling contrast to her darker skin, and were familiar to me. Very familiar. I've met this woman before. I'm sure of it!
"Padawan Shan!" the Zabrak exclaimed. Mission shot me an inquisitive look, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
"Master Karon," Bastila's voice echoed from the video replay. My breath caught as I heard the words, and I felt sweat break out on my forehead. A slight shudder passed through me.I caught a brief glimpse of the woman in my mind, holding a light blue lightsaber as she waited for me. Not threatening, not threatened, just ready. What? Ready for what? Me?
"It is good to see you again, Padawan. We were unsure who survived the betrayal onboard the Endar Spire-"
"Master," Bastila's voice cut in. The comm only showed the incoming video, so we couldn't see Bastila's expression, but she sounded almost... panicked. "I cannot be long. I need help."
"Help?" The one called Karon frowned, and her face turned intent. What is Bastila doing? I could feel the heat of rage as it uncurled in my gut. What has she done?
"Yes. I am heading toward Ahto City. I am glad you picked up on my signal, for I do not believe I will have time for the council on Coruscant to receive my message. Please, would you be able to rendezvous with me? Or perhaps organize another master? We will be there in two day's time."
The schutta. The betraying, lying schutta! Bastila had informed me there were no masters on Manaan. No masters until she contacted one. Why was I being such a blind idiot? Why was I still near Bastila? This was the same woman who had sedated me and tried to drag me to her masters on Dantooine. She's desperate to put me in their clutches. I will not go! I will not!
The Zabrak woman looked solemn, thoughtful, as she replied. "Who else survived the crash, Padawan?"
"The only other survivors were Carth Onasi and Jen Sahara."
"Ah." Her voice was neutral and betrayed nothing. But it was about me. It had to be, didn't it? "Well, I do not see how a delegate can arrive on Manaan within two days. I, however, am based on one of its resource planets. But tell me first, Bastila: why Manaan?"
"Please, I have to go. We are taking off now. Thank you, Master, I will explain everything when I see you!" The somewhat startled expression of the Jedi Master was cut off with an electronic hiss.
"Well, that was interesting. Y'think Bastila might be worried she's getting behind in her studies?" Mission giggled. I forced a smile on my face, and hoped it didn't look like a rictus of hate. Bastila will not get away with this! But the ship was already headed to Manaan. What in the Outer Rim could I do now?
Escape. I need to escape.
"Hey, it's not something to do with you, is it?" Mission asked, her bright voice cutting through my dark maelstrom of thoughts.
I faked an unconcerned shrug. "Possibly Juhani. Remember how we found her? And you know how highly-strung Bastila can get."
Mission rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Are we gonna ditch her, Jen? I mean, I know you're using the Force and all now, but..."
"Yeah, I don't want to put up with her either. We'll see, Mission. Get some sleep, okay?" I ended on a forced teasing note as I stood, and the Twi'lek poked her tongue out at me. I send her a brief smile before turning around and leaving the room.
The smile dropped from my face like a ferracrete brick.
How do I get out of this one? I seethed. I will not be cornered! But this transmission was sent almost two days ago; the trap was already laid and waiting to be sprung. Would it be so bad? A Jedi Master wouldn't hurt me, right? But if there was no harm involved, surely Bastila would have told me in advance.
Damn her! Damn the lying bitch! I didn't know why I feared seeing any of Bastila's precious Jedi Masters, but the fear and hate were so strong, so tangible, that I'd be a fool not to listen to it.
Alright, think. There's a way out of this. It was long past time to be gone. Why had I stuck around Bastila anyway? I'd always planned to leave Taris by myself, but one thing or another had kept me with the group.
I'd walked to the rear of the ship without thinking, to the empty engineering hangar that housed Davik's custom-built swoop bike Mission had drooled over. She'd been begging Zaalbar to have a go at fixing it, and it was currently in about a dozen different parts. HK-47 was in standby mode near the corner, and jerked to life abruptly as his sensors detected me.
"Master, I am ready to serve."
"Good," I said smoothly. "You can help me out with a little problem."
Together, surely, we could work out a plan to escape Bastila and her little Jedi Master.
xXx