5: Season of Pain

The Hidden Beks' main headquarters crouched in what used to be a loading bay complex. A few hundred years ago, before the UpCity had risen so high, ships would dock in a massive underground bay. In those days, the Loop had been one of the main attractions of Taris; a massive urban center where races had co-mingled by the millions. Of course, it had all been built over, now. It was all shrouded in the shadow of chrome and progress. The landing bays had closed down, to be ruled by rust and ruin.

The bays now served as a stronghold for the gang; a place to flop, to park their swoops and speeder bikes, a place to play. But there was no play tonight. Three hours ago, Lal Sideen had staggered in with Selli's limp body. She had been swamped by Beks, trying to see if the girl was alive or dead. When Selli managed a weak smile at her sister, Zaerdra had taken her from Lal and they had left Lal and her companions to wait in an abandoned office.

Through the shattered window of the office, they could see down into the first floor of the complex where Beks hustled about frantically, trying to crowd into the door of a side chamber where a doc tended to Selli. Carth stood at the window, staring down at the floor below. He propped his hands on his slender waist and frowned darkly. Zaalbar howled about being hungry and glanced from Carth to Lal. The Wookiee settled his towering bulk on the corner of an old desk. It creaked warningly beneath his furred bottom. Mission drifted to Lal's side, noticing her pain. She helped Lal sit down in a torn up couch against the far wall.

"You look hurt, Lal," Mission murmured as a scowl of pain flashed across Lal's face. Carth glanced over with concern creasing his brow. Lal bit her lip and tried to force the pain in her side to disappear. She pushed Mission's hands away and shook her head.

"I'm fine, honey," Lal told the girl.

"She's right, Lal," Carth told her as he drifted over to kneel before her. He laid a hand on her knee and smiled warmly at her. "You might have cracked a rib when that monster tossed you. Got anymore medpacks?"

Lal squeezed her eyes shut in annoyance, but nodded. She reached to the pouch at the rear of her belt, but the effort hurled a dagger into her side. She froze with a sharp gasp, her hands clenching. Carth sighed and got the medpack from her belt.

"You're gonna need to take it easy, Lal," he told her. He tore open the seal and dumped the compressed contents out onto the couch beside Lal. "Alright. Take your shirt off."

Lal opened her eyes and glared sullenly at him. "Excuse me?"

He stared right back, earnestly, defiantly, into her dark eyes. "Listen, I need to see how bad it is."

"I'm…fine…" she growled through clenched teeth.

"The hell you are, lady," he chuckled, unfolding a bandage wrap between his hands. "Now take the shirt off. You don't have anything I haven't seen."

"The shirt doesn't come off," she hissed back.

"Lal…"

"It doesn't come off!" she snapped loudly. "It's a one-piece! Besides, I…I not wearing…I don't have anything …on…underneath…" Her face reddened as a smile drifted over his lips. "And I'm not giving you a free show."

Carth lowered his eyes and shook his head. "You're a stubborn woman," he sighed. He pushed to his feet and glanced at Mission. "Mission, maybe you could…help her out?"

"I don't need Mission's help," Lal protested with a snarl. "And I am not stubborn! I will be fine. Nothing's broken."

"That's why you're so damned pale, huh?" Carth grunted down at her. "Because you're fine?"

"I'm pale because I live and work underground, Carth."

"Unbelievable. Zaalbar, maybe you could talk to her?" Carth asked.

Zaalbar opened his mouth to bark at Lal, but she pointed at him angrily; "Shut up, Carpet. I don't wanna hear it." Zaalbar glanced back at Carth and shrugged his massive shoulders helplessly. Zaalbar fired off a disparaging series of grunts and growls under his breath and stepped out of the office onto the staircase outside it.

Mission perched atop the desk and folded her legs beneath her. She began picking absently at a bootlace while thoughts painted themselves across her smooth, pretty features. Lal stuffed down an urge to tell Mission to sit a bit more ladylike. There was still too much of the girl in the young woman.

"So we just sit here and wait?" Carth asked, cocking his hips to one side. Lal watched him through heavily lidded eyes and decided she liked the way his hips moved. She could explain to him that they had to wait to see if Selli would live. She could explain that everything in his plan depended on that simple question. Or she could just watch him move when he was angry.

Lal found that she could learn who a man truly was when he was battered and beaten by frustration. A man's guard fell when control was taken from him; when the outcome was made suddenly uncertain. When all that he was or wanted or needed depended on the whim of fate. Or the will of another.

"I feel like I should be doing something," Carth went on, pacing back and forth before Mission. He stopped abruptly and waved a hand sharply through the air. "I don't like this."

Lal could sense that for herself; the way his dark brown eyes flicked back and forth beneath a deeply furrowed brow. He folded his arms across his chest and continued pacing. His hard boots made a little patina on the broken tiles of the floor. The light streaming into the office painted his chiseled features into a portrait of quiet desperation. He was trying…trying so hard. And with every effort, he staggered closer to the edge.

Lal decided that he was about to break. She didn't know how it would happen; it was different for every man. Some broke into bags of bubbling, whining despair. Others snapped when they broke, leaving painfully sharp edges that slashed anyone who came close. And some, when they broke, they simply folded themselves into quiet huddles, waiting for—needing—a woman's touch. Something gentle but strong to bring order back to chaos.

He would be vulnerable. Soon she would…

Lal stopped herself, stopped her thoughts. She had slipped back into the thoughts of the Assassin; the Seductress. The Predator that saw others as little bits of interesting meat. She closed her eyes tightly and pushed her head back against the ragged cushions of the couch. She didn't want to be the predator now. Not now. She couldn't be the predator now.

Well, she could. But did she want that?

"D'ya think Selli'll make it, Lal?" Mission asked in a tiny voice, her bright blue eyes aimed at the floor.

Carth stopped his pacing and turned a glance out the window of the office.

"I don't know Mission," Lal said, looking at the Twi'lek with slitted eyes. A dull, cool fire coughed to life inside Lal's chest when she recalled Selli's broken, tortured body. "I just…don't know." She sat forward with a twinge of pain, and the fire inside her grew hotter. Suddenly she realized why her thoughts had drifted towards predator, towards assassin. She was already planning the ways she would hurt Brejik.

"Mission," Carth said quietly, "Selli is…pretty badly beaten. I…I take it you and she are friends?"

"No…not really, I guess," Mission murmured. "I mean, yeah…we sorta were…It's hard being friends with other girls when you're a…a slave. It's kinda different. Deeper than friends. But not really friends…at the same time. Y'know?"

Carth's arched eyebrow showed that he didn't know.

Lal sat up and stood, moving over to Mission. Silently, she reached out and began to unfasten the armor vest she'd given to the girl. Mission allowed Lal to strip the heavy thing from her. Like a child. Lal removed the heavy vest and laid it aside. Mission's lekku coiled over her shoulders almost in an effort to hug herself. Lal leaned against the desk beside Mission, and laid an arm across Mission's narrow shoulders. The girl leaned against Lal's body and began to cry so silently that Lal almost didn't notice. Lal pressed her head against Mission's and patted her shoulder.

Carth watched the affection drift between both women and sighed a bit uncomfortably. As with most men, he didn't have any words to make it all better. And he was incapable of doing anything to make things right. Lal watched him still.

"Mission…" Carth began forcing confidence into his voice, "I'm sure Selli will…will be okay."

"But…you d-don't know," Mission said, sobbing softly.

Carth sighed once more and lowered his eyes. "No. No, I don't know. But sometimes, you just have to hope. Have faith. Sometimes, it's the only way to get by."

Mission was about to open her mouth to fire off a reply, but thought twice about it. She closed her mouth and lowered her eyes. "I hope Selli makes it…"

Lal gave Mission a squeeze and flickered a brief smile at Carth. Some men, she realized, when they reached their own private edges gave no thought to their own predicaments; rather, they thought only of the edges others treaded. That was the version of man Carth was. Lal was glad for that, for seeing that. But she was also disappointed. The predator in her was, at least.

Suddenly, Zaalbar came roaring excitedly into the office, beckoning them with a frantic paw. Lal and Mission leaped from the desk as one, dashing for the door. Carth was a bit slower, unable to make sense of Zaalbar's rushed Shryiiwook. But he figured it out and followed them down to the main floor.

Selli lay sleeping as Zaerdra and Gadon stood on one side of the bed. On the opposite side, Dr. Forn stroked his white beard thoughtfully, staring down at the young woman. Lal and the others hovered at the door, peering inward. Lal kept an arm around Mission's shoulders.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Zelka Forn told them all. "She's gonna need surgery. Some internal bleeding. I'd prefer to do it in my clinic, but moving her, with all the injuries she's sustained…"

"Is she going to be okay?" Zaerdra asked, her face stained red with all the crying she'd done.

Forn pursed his lips tightly together. "I believe she'll come through it okay. She's a strong young woman. She's already survived these injuries…the surgery won't be a difficult. But I'm going to need to do it here. No later than tomorrow. And I'm going to need a number of things from my clinic. No questions, no obstructions."

"Whatever you need, Doc," Gadon assured him. "We're grateful…in your debt already."

Forn shrugged. "Friends help friends. It's that simple." He turned and glanced coolly at Lal. His demeanor frosted over immediately. For Lal, it was no mystery why he disliked her, even though she'd never brought any harm to his door. "Interesting company you keep, Mr. Theck."

Lal released a sigh and stepped out of the room. Zaerdra caught her out of the corner of her eye and hastened after her. She caught up with Lal outside the room, calling her name.

Lal turned slowly steeling herself for another confrontation with the woman. "Yes, Zaerdra. What is it?"

"I…" Zaerdra's pale green eyes dropped to the floor and she licked her lips. "Umm…I just wanted to…to thank you…for saving my sister. I know that…you had no reason to risk your life…for hers…and I'm…well, I was wrong. Wrong about you."

"No, you were right about me, Zaerdra," Lal told her. "But…perhaps things change."

Zaerdra nodded thoughtfully, wringing her hands nervously before her. "Things do change, I suppose. The things I've said to you…I had no right. I know that you've…you've helped us out. But, I was too angry…I blamed you instead of…"

Lal stepped forward and laid her hands on Zaerdra's shoulders. She locked her gaze upon Zaerdra's own. "We each have our burdens we must bear. Sometimes the weight is too much to be carried alone. Other times, it's light enough that…that we can sometimes carry the burdens of others."

Zaerdra nodded again, and smiled. "Will you accept my apology?"

Lal realized what it must have took for such a proud woman as Zaerdra to ask an enemy for forgiveness. Lal wondered if there was any need for them to be enemies anymore. "No need," she told Zaerdra. She felt a wave of unbidden emotion sweep over her and she stuffed it down. Too much sentimentality. But even so, she felt better. A smile danced on her lips, one matched tentatively by Zaerdra. Understanding arced between the women like electricity. Zaerdra nodded and drifted back into the room with her sister.

Carth left Mission and Zaalbar inside and came out to join Lal. She glanced over at him as he moved beside her. His eyes quested over the faces of the Beks, and a heavy sigh wracked his body.

"You know," he began, "you're never what I expect, Lal Sideen."

"That's because I'm mysterious, Carth Onasi."

He glanced over her with a measuring gaze, trying to figure her out. "You are a mystery. I…this was a good thing…what we did. What you did…"

"Don't get used to it. I'm still criminal scum, remember?"

He chuckled and nodded. "That's right. I'd forgotten. I'm completely sure you have your own nefarious agenda, right?"

"More or less. I think we have that in common, Carth. Question is…do I want to be involved in your agenda any more than you want to be involved in mine?"

He was about to reply when Gadon Theck stepped out of the room to join them. "I just wanted to thank you two," he said, glancing sightlessly past their faces. "Oh…uh…I'm not interrupting anything…am I?"

Lal and Carth both turned, and at the same time, said, "No." Lal glanced back at Carth and lifted her chin. He merely arched an eyebrow and nursed a crooked grin.

Gadon chuckled as he watched both of them. "Well, as I said, the Hidden Beks are…in your debt. You've proven yourselves as friends, and the Beks remember their friends. Our earlier agreement stands, of course. And Carth, we'll be willing to provide you whatever help we can against the Sith. They threaten us all. They've proved that with the wholesale slaughter in Undercity."

Carth's eyebrows lifted in surprise. For a moment, he didn't know exactly what to say. "I…well, thanks…"

Gadon nodded and clapped Carth on the shoulder warmly. "Least we can do. This is our fight too, it seems. No one down here believes the Sith will be content to simply limit their atrocities to Undercity."

"What about your race?" Carth asked.

"Well…there don't seem to be any real options there," Gadon admitted with a frown. "We've got some good riders…but Selli was our only great rider. She was the only one of us who could possibly beat Brejik."

"Brejik's going to be riding?" Lal asked.

Gadon nodded. "You know I used to be nova on a swoop rig, but since I lost my sight…well…"

"So, you're withdrawing from the race?" Carth asked him.

Gadon shrugged. "Doesn't seem to be much point in going on with it. Selli's already paid too steep a price. Problem is, we'll still have to wait until after the race to get Bastila."

"Why, Gadon?" Lal asked. "You won't be jeopardizing your position in the race…so why not just go in and take her?"

"Retaliation, Lal," he said. "We wouldn't just be crossing the Vulkars…which I don't care about…we'd be crossing all the gangs. They'd consider it a breech of honor. After the race is still our best shot. Bastila will probably be sold to the highest bidder…and there will be the confusion and excitement of the victory celebrations. It'll provide enough of a distraction that we'll be able to get away clean. In theory."

"I don't know, Gadon," Carth sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I appreciate your candor, but every moment we wait is another moment the Sith have to step in and grab her. By now, I can't imagine this race is much of a secret, right?"

"Hold on a second, Carth," Lal said, thinking predator thoughts.

"Uh-oh," Gadon murmured, watching Lal as she worked her plan out.

"What's uh-oh?" Carth asked with a confused frown.

Gadon pointed at Lal's face. "See that look? That's her I'm coming up with a way to kill you that you will never expect look."

"Right, right…" Carth grunted. "And this is a good thing or a bad thing?"

Lal admonished them both with a glare. "Do stop talking about me as if I'm not standing right here, please? Relax, Carth. It's a bad thing. But only for Brejik. I believe I have a way to allow your gang to participate in the race, provide a distraction and get Bastila during the race."

Gadon and Carth shared a worried look. "Okay," Gadon said, "I'm all ears."

Lal smiled wickedly, placing her hands on her hips. "I'll be your racer, Gadon."

Twenty years ago, gang warfare boiled through the streets and corridors of LowCity. The gangs fought tooth and nail for territory rights, and for a hand in the industry of crime. The wars bled over onto the streets, killing civilians, destroying property. And finally, having taken the battle beyond any realm of sanity, one gang detonated a hyperthermal bomb in sector 304. The bomb had been cobbled together in someone's basement. It hadn't been hard to build, actually. Technology had effortlessly placed the most terrible weapon known into the hands of street-lethal teenagers.

The blast had rocked the city-strata, from LowCity to Upcity, and to Undercity far below. A wave of fire and kinetic energy had rolled across a thirty kilometer area of LowCity, advancing at ten thousand kilometers per hour. Ninety thousand humans and aliens reached a body temperature of one million degrees in less than a second. Most of whom had nothing to do with any gangs or any turf battle.

Now, in order to avoid the bloodshed, the retaliation, the escalation, the LowCity gangs raced their swoops. They held their race in the wasteland of twisted, molten durasteel, of blackened, shattered corridors known as the Pit. The Pit was thirty square kilometers of nightmare. When the bomb had detonated, it had pushed out a shockwave that wrenched apart corridors and tunnels and dislodged mountains of jagged debris. The heat coursed through less than a second afterwards, so intense that it caused durasteel to bend and warp. It fused the debris and torn metal and shattered bones into a frantic fever dream of death and madness. It was now an obscene wonderland scattered with unnatural canyons of fused durasteel. It still burned with radiation, causing the twisted walls and rugged channels to glow a livid, angry blue.

It was the perfect place for a race.

Wild eyed swoop jocks saw the deadly terrain as an extreme challenge. It was a badge of honor to tear through the Pit in little more than a repulsorlift turbine, control vanes and a seat. Only the elite undertook the nightmare course. The radiation was scoffed at by the vets of the run; in truth, it was dangerous to walk through, no doubt. But screaming through at something under five hundred kilometers per hour, a rider wouldn't catch enough rads to provide a lethal dose. It was still dangerous, of course, so every racer had to undergo a full set of myranthin shots; it kept the radiation from settling into the body tissues.

Since the races had begun, the galactic net had taken an interest. It was one of the most extreme courses in ten sectors. Often, riders went on to compete in the professional circuits on Manaan, Devaron, Bimmisaari and even Coruscant. Holovid remotes had been set-up in the Pit to cover each leg and wild turn of the course.

Of course, it was dangerous. Aside from the unique dangers posed by the terrain alone, no rules existed to moderate ambitious competitionMany riders crashed and burned, broken up and bloodied. And that was the reason for the vid cams. Blood equated roughly into ratings. It was outlaw racing at its best.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Mission groaned, watching as Lal dressed in a blue and silver Slipsuit, showing Bek colors.

Lal rubbed her arm where she had been inoculated against radiation exposure. Welts had bulged beneath the skin, and her flesh now carried a yellow stain like an old bruise. Gingerly, she tugged her suit sleeve over the aching patch of skin and pulled the suit hood over her head. Mission helped her pull her brown ponytail through a hole in the back of the hood. The cowl pressed closely against her skull, exposing only her face.

"Try not to worry, Mission," Lal said, shouldering into a stiff armor vest painted blue with silver lightning bolts streaking down the surface. "This is what I apparently used to do before I came to Taris."

Mission helped Lal seal the fasteners of the vest and shook her head. "I don't wanna be a nag, Lal, but Davik rescued you from a speeder crash. And it ain't like you remember any of that, right? Maybe that should be a hint, huh?"

"Helmet," Lal replied.

Mission groaned and handed Lal the chopped-top helmet Selli had used. It only came down just below Lal's ears, and with the face plate up, it looked more like a hat than a helmet. It wasn't there for safety anyway; no helmet would protect a rider who flamed into the ground at five hundred kilometers per hour. It was more for style. And protection from the other riders.

"Lal, in the three years you've been on Taris, have you ever even ridden a swoop?"

Lal fastened the chin strap of her helmet and turned to smile warmly at Mission. "Honey…shut up, okay?"

"Why are you doing this? You could completely get killed! Or worse! If you--"

"I don't need to win, Mission. It's not even on my mind. All I need to do is make Brejik lose. Now, come on. Walk me out to my rig, okay?"

Lal and Mission strode side by side out from the locker room designated for Bek use. She flipped her face shield down as they passed down a narrow set of stairs. A crowd of Bek technicians huddled at the base of the staircase, making last adjustments on the swoop rig and monitor equipment she'd be using. They parted for her, staring curiously as she walked past. Their faces seemed so young, so innocent. In their eyes, she saw herself reflected; a spectre, some sort of living ghost. They feared the demon that was Lal Sideen, but they also had some sort of distant yearning hope; some belief that she'd use her terrible power in their cause.

Such as it was.

She wasn't doing this for them. Good as the Hidden Beks may have been, she didn't feel inclined to do this race just to give them an edge on street crime.

She did a visual check on the rig hovering before her. It literally was little more than a seat attached to a repulsorlift engine. The basic frame was wrapped inside a sleek catamaran cowling; the control vanes were sheathed in twin arrow-like protrusions that swept forward of the recessed cockpit. The engine and thrusters bulged behind it, and hung naked beneath the curved cowling at the rear. The seat sank down into the chassis, but only partially. Her shoulders and face still were exposed. And there was no windshield to deflect the roaring air. Her helmet would have to suffice. She leaned over the top of the cowling and peered inside the cockpit; she was pleased to see her blaster pistol and vibroblade neatly tucked in with the control surfaces.

An Ithorian Bek stumped up to her, nodding his oddly curved, hammer-headed skull at her. One of his mouths opened and his began speaking to her in booming, heavily accented Huttese. He explained once more that the racers maneuvered to the starting line in clusters of three. Swoop positioning was based on trial runs performed two weeks ago. Selli had placed well during the trial; Lal would be starting in the second cluster. Brejik was in the first, but she reckoned she could catch up to him easily enough.

Lal nodded her understanding to the Ithorian and snapped her face plate down. She smiled beneath the face plate at Mission; no one else was there to see her off. Carth, Zaalbar and the others were elsewhere, waiting to storm the control room. Waiting for her diversion.

She was ready.

She vaulted into the seat. It was little more than a cushioned bar that she straddled. She pulled a crank and it cantilevered her body forward, lowering her wind profile, and shoving her face close to the tiny cluster of display panels huddled within the cockpit. Her hands reached out to grasp the control rods; the handles swiveled freely in her fists; buttons studded the handles, and with a flick of her thumbs she could brake or accelerate. Her feet found the pedals that would shift gears. She reached down and flicked the commlink relay. Static flickered in her ear, but cleared as she switched to the secure channel Carth had reluctantly programmed for them to use.

Lal twisted the handle on the right control rod and the thrusters cut in, blistering the air below and behind the rig. She swung laterally away from the technicians and then gusted forward slowly. She glanced at Mission and nodded. And then, she coaxed the roaring swoop down a narrow channel to her starting block.

As the other rigs maneuvered into position around her, Lal kicked the rig into neutral and goosed the throttle. The rig screamed anxiously, and sent a humming harmonic vibrating along the pointed control vanes.

To her right, the Kankar rider shouted incoherently at her over the roar of their engines. Beneath his facemask, he leered at her. She had no idea what the idiot was saying, but it was probably disparaging in some manner. She wondered what tricks he was carrying onboard. Wondered if she'd have to kill him.

She shut his yelling out as a set of lights flipped down from the ceiling. Only the red light at the far left shone. But then, the amber light in the middle beeped on. Lal twisted the throttle open with a roar. The other two rigs did the same, filling the corridor with shrieking thunder. When the green light beeped on, Lal kicked the rig back into gear and the world before her disintegrated into a gray and brown blur.

The corridor before her leaped towards her. Her rig screamed as she tore a burning channel through the air. The corridor curved out in a long gentle turn, leading downwards towards the Pit. Lal caught a glimpse of the Kankar rider's rig gusting slightly ahead of her. He was glancing over at her every few seconds, wagging his tongue at her.

Twit.

Lal leaned into the turn and downshifted as the throttle redlined with a growl. She blasted out of the mouth of the tunnel with both rigs in her cluster close behind. She paid them little mind as a jagged mountain of molten durasteel loomed in her path. She leaned left and goosed the thrusters, hopping in front of the RedBlade's rig. Lal ghosted smoothly around the knot of twisted girders and bounced over a hump in the blistered ground. The RedBlade fell in line behind her, allowing her rig to zero out the wind resistance. Smart kid. She glanced to her right to find the Kankar rider, and gasped sharply as she saw his rig bank inward towards her own. He tried to dash against one of her rear panels, to nudge her rig off balance. She matched his speed, though, and let his rig clap against her side panels. Durasteel and polymer ground together and shed a spray of sparks. He bounced away, trying to get an angle on her.

What'd I ever do to you, laser-brains? She wondered. If he did manage to get an angle on her in a collision, he could send her rig hurtling into a spin that would slam her against a wall. Lal was safe running side by side with him, but knew she had to maneuver ahead.

The three of them zoomed into a narrow corridor, with room only to run two abreast. The Kankar took the opportunity to muscle her rig against the far wall. Lal gritted her teeth as she struggled with the controls, trying to keep away from the wall as much as possible. But still, she grinded against the wall, and sparks flashed in the dim light of the tunnel. Lal jammed on the thrusters with her left foot and leaned towards the Kankar sharply. She banged him against the wall and his velocity bled away rapidly. He fell behind her rig, and Lal twisted the throttle open. With a scream, her rig zoomed forward. The RedBlade stayed right on her tail, content to pace himself.

As they neared the mouth of the tunnel, the Kankar rushed up beside her again, pushing his rig hard. But he was so focused on ramming her that he didn't notice how narrow the tunnel squeezed at the opening. Lal sucked in a deep frantic breath and laid the throttle full. She slipped through the opening an instant before the Kankar scraped into the wall. The impact crunched the side panels of his rig and chewed into his lateral thrusters.

Desperately, he fought back to the left, but overcompensated. He slammed into the opposite wall with a boom and a shower of yellow fire. His control vanes clipped the rear of the RedBlade's rig hard, sending it into a flat spin.

As Lal lost both of them, she breathed a sigh of relief. And then screamed as a monstrous heap of shattered metal rose up before her. She hunched down into her shoulders and closed her eyes as she sliced through a narrow opening in the middle of the heap. Vorpal outcroppings dashed against her panels, gouging gleaming channels into the surface of her rig. Sparks jetted out behind her as she cleared the refuse.

"Bloody hell," she cried, leaning forward on the throttle.

Her rig blazed forward into a wide corridor with a low ceiling. It stretched off distantly, the end lost in a glowing blue haze of radiation. Her heart began to hammer inside her chest, and she realized she was passing into the first of six dangerously hot zones. Here, the floor had been chewed to bits, and several large holes opened directly down to Undercity, far below. Inertia would carry her over most gaps, but anything larger than twenty feet would suck her straight down.

She also noticed that in several places, the corridor had been severely warped, as if two great fists had grabbed hold of the corridor and twisted in opposite directions. Wrinkles had been carved into the durasteel walls, and radiation burned within them. Ahead of her, something bounced against a wall and exploded in a crimson and black blossom of flame. Fire coursed across her path, but she burned right through it, closing her eyes. As she blistered forward, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the burning wreckage of a swoop rig. The pilot, set afire, flailed madly and staggered about.

A second later, he was just a bright dot falling away behind her.

Before her, she could see the tail of another rig, tearing swiftly along the wall of the corridor. She squinted in the dark, trying to recognize the rig. But as she did so, she saw a flurry of bright spears flying towards her. Blaster fire! Lal juked to the side, evading the blaster bolts.

When the rigger had turned back to fire on her, he had inadvertently relaxed his throttle. Lal ate the distance between them and reached with one hand to her vibroblade. She thumbed the activation switch as the rigger took aim once more. In a sudden flash of steel, Lal brought the humming sword up and high over her head. She slashed downwards against his rig, just clipping his left thruster. Electricity snapped and popped along the surface of the thruster, and Lal felt an invisible hammer pound her sword arm. She managed to keep a grip on the blade and drew it back in. She pushed the throttle forward as the rig—Silver Vortex—lost lateral control. Lal eased past him as he bounced from one wall, and then crashed into the opposite wall.

He exploded behind her.

She veered up on another fire; another rig downed. This time Lal swung around the wreckage rather than pass through another burst of flame. Her engine redlined with a desperate whine and she downshifted sharply. And then, she saw a wall race towards her.

Panic grasped her thoughts. She yanked back on the throttle, afraid she would crash. But as she cranked down her speed, she noticed several large holes chewed into the wall before her. Which one? She wondered. She had half a second to decide.

She shoved her rig through the hole closest to the curve of the wall, stabbing into a narrow, rounded tunnel. She gasped when she saw the tunnel was so tight that she had only inches to spare all around her rig. And her heart stopped beating when she saw a single girder slicing through the very center of the passageway. Her brain shut down as she aimed her blaster over the hood of her rig. She squeezed off as many shots as she could and closed her eyes.

The girder shattered as each blast carved a hunk out of it. It scraped the undercarriage of her swoop, but Lal made it through. And she blasted out of the end of the tunnel into a vast cistern. Gravity tugged her rig downward, nose first, and she yanked backwards on the control rods. There was no floor here, she realized, only a massive, terrible drop. He rig moaned as the repulsorlifts searched for a surface to push up against. A cry of terror tore free from Lal's throat as she felt the rear of the rig begin to angle too far forward. The rods were as far back as she could yank them, however. She was going to flip over.

Desperately, she stamped on the thruster pedal, jamming it flush with the floor of her rig. She leaned backwards as far as she could. Her swoop screamed and vibrated, but she brought the nose back up. Long seconds passed and her engine floated at the redline the entire time.

When she finally saw the ground surge up towards her, she dialed up the repulsor feedback as high as it could go. Her rig slapped against the ground and Lal's chin bashed against one of her display monitors. Her vision spun for a second before she gained her bearings and saw a ragged channel before her. She swung her rig drunkenly through the opening, scraping against the sides before finally adjusting her course.

Ahead of her, Lal could hear the whine of thrusters bouncing against the walls of the curving tunnel. She threw caution out the back of her rig and zoomed forward. With tiny jerks of her wrists, Lal teased the rig along the curve of the tunnel and came in sight of the rig before her. She could see red thorns painted against the glossy black cowling of the swoop. Brejik.

Lal surged forward on a wave of hatred, and reached again for her blaster. His rig was shaped like a ball, with naked control vanes stabbing forth from it. Brejik sat inside the ball, where it was cut open. She could see his head poke around the curve of the sphere; he wore no helmet, only a crimson bandana whipping in the wind.

Time to die, she thought grimly, aiming for his thrusters with her blaster. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tiny smudge of black steel arc through the air towards her. Desperation and fear guided her reflexes. She forgot the shot and shoved her rig past the grenade just before it detonated. The explosion lifted the rear of her rig against the ceiling of the tunnel.

Fire spilled over her as her swoop crashed back into the floor of the tunnel. Sparks hissed behind her and she fought with the controls to keep her rig aloft. Debris showered her as the blast sent hunks of the ceiling crashing downward.

Lal forced her rig forward, but felt something wet trailing over her lips. Blood. She could also feel her ears filling with it as well.Lal tried to shake the ringing from them as she zoomed once more within sight of Brejik. Lal could see him glancing back at her as she slid alongside him. He bashed into her and ground against her side panels.

"Well look who it is!" Brejik roared, his voice a tinny hiss above the combined screech of their engines. "Whore extraordinaire; Lal Sideen! Racing for the Beks, I see! I guess Selli was too broken up to make it, huh?"

"Bastard!" she snarled back, fumbling for her blaster. She hauled it towards him and aimed at his face, but he slammed against her rig sharply. The blaster fell from her hand and clattered back across the cowling of her rig.

"Not very sporting, darling!" He chuckled. But one good turn deserves another!" he yanked out a blaster pistol of his own and fired point blank at her.

Desperately, Lal yawed away from him, and the blaster missed her face. But his second shot tore into her and she screamed in agony. Her vest deflected some of the blazing energy, but she glanced down to see a scorched and ragged gouge carved into her shoulder. She nearly lost control of the rig. Her entire arm went numb and pain hammered her thoughts. Dark spots swam before her eyes and nausea splashed over her. Her throat locked up and a vague part of her mind told her she was slipping dangerously close to shock.

By the time her vision cleared, she saw that her rig had jetted out of the curved corridor into a yawning dark space littered with tall, jagged columns rising out of the floor like metal stalagmites. By the grace of some higher power, her swoop had slipped safely past several of these piles of slagged metal. But one hurtled directly towards her now. With a gasp, she jerked the controls and the rig rolled to the left of the tower. An explosion glanced off the surface of the tower, and she saw Brejik still firing back at her.

The columns of molten durasteel offered her some natural cover, but it wouldn't be long before he got in a lucky shot. Lal had to change the odds.

She shoved the control rods to the right and slipped directly behind Brejik's swoop. He tried to lean out of his cockpit to fire on her, but he couldn't get a decent angle. His shots kept going wide. If only she hadn't lost her blaster, she would have a perfect shot. She nudged the rig closer, inching up on his tail. He continued to peek back at her, desperate to squeeze a shot off.

A dizzy curtain fell over Lal's thoughts, but she shook her head to clear it. Gritting her teeth, she slipped to the right and dashed forward, sliding up on Brejik's flank. As soon as she did, he twisted in his seat and fired down on her. Lal cursed as one of his shots sparked across her right control vane. She slipped back in behind him.

Lal immediately tried to slip up on his left, but this time, Brejik braked into a flat spin, and jammed on the emergency stabilizers so that his spin only cut 180 degrees. Shifting furiously on the controls, he reversed his thrusters and flew backwards, facing directly at Lal.

Brejik grinned broadly at her, prideful of his own skill. He aimed his blaster directly at her and fired. He stitched a trail up the front of her rig's cowling, walking his shots towards her face. Lal banked sharply, lifting the edge of her rig to shield against his blasts. His shots sliced into her undercarriage, and her gauges went wild. Lal ignored her display and throttled up beside Brejik's rig.

He snarled at her as she pulled alongside, spraying white smoke from the belly of her rig. Her eyes bulged as Brejik unleashed a new weapon; a slim silver cylinder clutched in his fist. She recognized it deep in her mind, but didn't immediately register the name. He flicked a switch on the cylinder, and a beam of golden light hissed into existence.

Lightsaber.

The weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as random as a blaster. It was an elegant device, one that did not belong in the hands of a coarse dog like Brejik.

He lifted the weapon high above him, and she heard it scream as it burned through the air. But Lal moved faster than Brejik. She moved faster than anyone she knew.

Her sword flashed and hummed. It carved a shining silver arc through the whipping wind and sliced downward into the control vanes of Brejik's swoop rig. Brejik lost his grasp on the lightsaber as his control vanes fell away from his rig. He screamed as his swoop flipped end over end. Desperately he yanked on his controls, but the mechanisms were utterly severed. Lal watched as he spun in a mad spiral against a wall and exploded.

She tapped her commlink and said a single word, "Go."

And then, red lights flashed across her displays. Something popped and cracked inside the manifold of her rig, and as she struggled with her controls, she wondered if the price might be too steep.

After the charges blew the door inward in a cloud of acrid smoke, Carth and Zaalbar charged into the Race Control station, backed by four of Gadon's Beks, all dressed in stolen Sith armor. Inside, a number of technicians coughed and hacked from the smoke. A brace of thick-necked security types wrestled to unleash their blasters, but Carth cut them down. He scanned the room and saw a bank of monitors, displaying images of fiery crashes in the race. He knew that their attention had been consumed by Lal's efforts on the course, her firefight with Brejik and several other swoop riggers. She was a bloodthirsty woman, he realized, but he found himself hoping that it wasn't her rig on the screens burning down to slag.

The race comptrollers were taken completely by surprise, as Lal had predicted. Also, as she had predicted, they were paralyzed with fear when they saw Sith troopers storming in.

"You've got one chance to live!" Carth snarled at them. "Give us the girl, or face the wrath of the Sith!" he aimed one of his blasters at the nearest tech. "You! Where is she?"

There was a pause as the comptrollers flicked their eyes back and forth between Carth and Zaalbar and the Sith flanking them with guns drawn. In that moment, Carth feared the illusion would crumble, but the Wookiee leaned forwards and released a thundering roar in the nearest comptroller's face.

"I…I…I…"

Carth dashed forward and grabbed the young man around the collar. He shoved his blaster against his throat and hissed, "I won't ask a second time…"

"I'll tell you!" a girl cried out. "Just don't hurt us!"

Carth nodded at her. "Wise choice." He glanced at Zaalbar and the Sith. "Hold position here."

One of Gadon's boys had to stifle a laugh. But they all nodded in a sloppy approximation of Sith discipline. Carth groaned inwardly. This was going to have to go quickly, before the illusion shattered. Before anyone realized his blaster had only been set on stun…

The girl led him into a back room, glancing nervously at him. She keyed in a combination to unlock a heavy security door. It slid open, revealing a chamber filled with various treasures collected as entry fees by all of Taris' gangs. Carth's gaze drifted past the stacks of stolen platinumware, of custom-made slicer mastercode-cards. He saw only the woman trapped in a glowing stasis field in the center of the room. Anger surged over him when he saw that Bastila had been stripped of her Jedi robes; she wore only her underclothes, like some slavegirl.

Carth aimed at the control panel near Bastila Shan's feet and fired. Sparks flew from the panel and the stasis field flickered and disappeared. Bastila's limp body collapsed to the floor and Carth rushed to her side. He cradled her in his lap and gently shook her.

"Bastila," he whispered into her face, "come on. We've got to go. We don't have a lot of time…"

She moaned softly and her head lolled in his arms. Frowning, Carth smacked her cheek. Her brow furrowed but she did not open her eyes. He slapped her again, a bit harder, and this time, her eyes snapped open. Her gaze rolled towards him and her body tensed.

"Do not touch me!" she cried, shoving at his hands in a sudden panic.

"Bastila," he said, struggling against her, "it's me. Carth. Captain Onasi. I'm here to rescue you!"

"Captain," she grunted, glancing around. She fought to regain her senses and nodded weakly, laying a hand upon his shoulder. "Of…of c-course, Captain…where are we, again?"

"In a bad place, Commander Shan." He helped her to her feet, but she leaned heavily on his arm. "We've got to move. Do you need me to carry you?"

"I…certainly not, Captain. I c-can manage on my own…"

He hustled her back towards the control room. Zaalbar saw them and bellowed an impatient roar.

"I know," Carth fired back. "We're leaving."

Bastila stiffened in his arms as she saw the Sith. "Carth!"

"No…don't…they're friends…I'll explain later. Right now, time is a factor."

Carth led them out of the control room amidst stunned gazes of technicians, and slipped down a corridor. They ducked down a side passage and dashed into the room where they'd made their entry. A young female Bek held the position with a blaster rifle larger than she was. She grinned at them and covered them as they all slipped into a cooling duct. Carth helped Bastila into the duct and realized he had been holding his breath. Zaalbar urged him forward with a bark, and Carth crawled inside the duct. When Zaalbar struggled in behind him, Carth felt a grin on his lips.

They'd done it.

They were home free. But his smile soured and fell apart as his thoughts drifted towards Lal once more.

Mission watched the finish line beside Gadon and several Bek technicians. She hugged herself tightly, her heart pounding in her chest. Several racers had crossed the line in the past twenty minutes. The Ubari Devils had taken first place, screaming across the line with flames gusting from their rig. Six more rigs had either burned or zoomed or sputtered across the line since then.

Mission had watched the holo-vids closely, and saw almost every bit of Lal's battle with Brejik. Even now, she could hear the announcers remarking in startled Huttese about the violence of this year's race. At least three racers had crashed and burned by their count. And several more remained unaccounted for.

Lal was one of them.

The Ithorian chief rig tech lowered his blunted skull and rumbled in dismay. He shook his head as he spoke. Mission glared over at him, and balled her fists up.

"You be quiet!" she screamed. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Gadon laid his hands upon Mission's shoulders gently. "Mission…She did what she had to do…it's…maybe it's time to go…"

Tears burned in Mission's eyes as his words sank into her skull. She shook her head and buried her face in Gadon's chest. She didn't want to accept it. Didn't want it to be true. Lal Sideen might have been a cold-blooded killer to some, but she had been good to Mission. And it was a goodness, a kindness Mission hadn't known since her brother had gone away. Lal was hard, but there had been a softness to her at the same time. And Mission found it comfortable.

Now that Lal was gone…

The announcers suddenly began chattering excitedly on the vids. Mission and Gadon whirled around just as a rig came scraping across the finish line. A gout of flame coursed from the rig's undercarriage, and smoke trailed behind it. The rig lost power and slammed into the ground. A shower of sparks flew up as it skidded to a halt. Technicians sprayed the rig down with thick flame-retardant foam, and several techs in rescue suits lumbered forth to pull the rider from the burning mess.

"I'll be damned," Gadon hissed, his artificial eyes clicking and whirring.

Lal pulled herself from the wreck and threw her helmet off. Rescue techs grabbed her to hustle her away from the rig, but she shrugged them off. She quickly reached back into her rig for something and then stumbled away.

"Lal!" Mission cried. "You made it!" She sailed into Lal's arms, hugging her tightly. Lal glanced down at Mission and stroked her shoulder with a free hand.

"Of course I made it, Mission," she gasped weakly. Gadon and the other Beks rushed over, holding Lal up as her knees buckled.

"I don't believe it," Gadon grinned at her, giving her a kiss on her lips.

"Oh, hey Gadon," Lal murmured. "Had to stop off to pick s-something up. D-Did I win?"