7: The Path of the Righteous

Darth Malak stood at the forecastle of the Leviathan's bridge and stared coldly down at the crisp, blue-white surface of Taris swelling far below. At one point in his life, he might have found the sight of the planet beautiful. At one point in his life, he would have fought with his dying breath to preserve that beauty.

But of course, that had been before Revan. Before the Star Forge.

Once, Malak had been a Jedi, and a hero. He and Revan had been…Malak had followed Revan blindly, foolishly. Revan's charisma had been undeniable. Revan's logic, irrefutable.

At the time, it had seemed the only way to save the galaxy from chaos. Now, there was only Malak's way.

On the planet below him, he knew Bastila Shan was hiding from him. He could sense her presence, as she, no doubt could sense his. Malak did not know why the Jedi Council had sent Bastila to this far-flung world so far removed from the beaten path. But he wasn't entirely certain that he cared. Bastila was a dangerous opponent. Oh, to be sure, she was little more than a child, younger even than Bandon, his apprentice. And her Jedi skills remained unfocused.

But Bastila was dangerous for her Battle Meditation, her ability to manipulate entire armies. Malak had seen it in operation only once; during Revan's attack on the Republic forces. That had been a cleverly crafted trap. The Jedi maneuvered Revan out into the open by providing an irresistible target. And Revan, the fool, had fallen right into it, against Malak's counsel. Together, they had watched while Bastila's power made fools of their armies, dulled the wits of their pilots and officers, while inspiring the Republic dogs to victory.

And she had used the ensuing chaos to go after Revan directly. Malak had been given no choice then. He had done what he had to do. For the glory of the Sith, yes; but even more so, to further the plan.

And now, the plan was at risk once more. All because of pretty little Bastila.

Malak wanted Bastila, to crush her within his iron grasp and turn her to his cause. Though she was brave, she had a weak mind. He'd felt the shadow over her heart. But she eluded him. She eluded his best efforts. She eluded Bandon. And she hid herself away on that beautiful planet far, far below.

Darth Malak, Lord of the Sith whirled away from the viewscreen and fixed Admiral Karath with his frosty glare. "Admiral, how long would it take to maneuver our ships into planetary bombardment range?"

Karath glanced up in surprise where he leaned over the chair of one of his officers. "My Lord? Ah…" he reached down past the officer to press a few controls on her station console. He read the results of his check and glanced up at Malak. "For maximum fire-for-effect, it would require an hour."

Malak nodded and glanced back at the viewscreen. Something strange…a feeling of familiar dread washed through him with a chill. He clasped his massive fists behind him and sighed. "Signal the Gladius and the Cestus, Admiral. We will move into bombardment range. Alert the flight deck. Launch bomber squadrons."

Karath frowned and stepped up onto the command-walkway with Malak. "Er…my Lord…we still have soldiers deployed on the surface. Our own men…Shall I order the withdrawal of our forces?"

Malak growled through the respirator mask clutching his chin and jaw and his eyes flared. "Admiral, you have my orders. I want that planet razed to the very core. Do you require me to repeat myself?"

Karath visibly wilted beneath his master's gaze. He stepped backwards and nodded. "It...it will be as you wish, my Lord Malak…"

Tetrian Heights was a golden canyon of glass and glittering alloy that spanned nearly ten kilometers. The cluster of high-class Arcologies soared over the gleaming towers of Taris like pillars holding up the sky. The rich and the powerful of Taris lived here. Even the modest apartments within the shining depths of Tetrian Heights housed some of the wealthiest Tarisians on the planet. But the truly mighty made their homes on the very peaks of these mountainous Arcologies. There, vast penthouse plazas lounged in defiant repose against the ripping icy winds and the unadulterated radiation beaming down from the sun. Hundreds of kilometers in the sky, these dwellings were protected behind invisible atmosphere shields, blunting the sub-zero temperatures and the scalding ultraviolet rays.

Davik Kang's vast estate rested at the top of Hydrian Tower. It stretched for several hundred rolling meters, with low roofs and plazas that stood open to the air. It was a complex of numerous buildings; short towers and squat minarets. In the center of the complex stood a tiny artificial forest, writhing with semi-mobile plant life imported from the forest world of Hayanna.

Davik used the top floor of his compound mainly as advertisement; he brought his most treasured clients and business partners here. The open rooms and piazzas hosted sprawling pools and cozy lounges where half naked joygirls frolicked. Below the top floor, hidden from sight, lurked the corridors and chambers in which he did his true business. There, he had labs that refined spice loads stolen from the Kessel Run; workshops that counterfeited cred-sticks and other currencies from local Systems. His soldiers were quartered there, and a landing bay housed a number of ships and transports for his personal use.

One of those transports, a sleek, low-slung air speeder, came humming over the top of the compound and dropped slowly towards a landing pad beside the Forest. Davik stood there waiting, flanked by four of his thugs. Calo Nord stood off to the side, absently watching as a giggling, scantily clad Zabrak joygirl led a client by the hand into the shifting depths of the Forest.

After the speeder came to a rest on an anti-grav cushion, the side hatch opened up. Lal Sideen stumbled out, bleeding freely from the nose and mouth. She nearly collapsed, but Canderous Ordo climbed out behind her and steadied her with a gauntleted hand. Two of Davik's hunters followed, clad entirely in armor, shoving Lal's Wookiee with a pair of shock sticks. The Wookiee howled in pain and struggled to free himself from a pair of manacles chained to a collar around his neck.

Davik coked his head to the side in annoyance. "Why ain't she chained up, Canderous?"

"Actually, Davik," Canderous sighed, jerking Lal towards Davik by her shirt collar, "she came along willingly."

Davik eyed her up and down as Canderous steered her in front of him. "Willingly, huh? Then what's with all the blood? Did you have to convince her to come 'willingly'?"

Lal glanced back at Canderous and spat a glob of blood onto his blue and silver chest plate.

"We had a disagreement," Canderous chuckled.

"What is this about, Davik?" Lal demanded.

"Oh, so it's questions, I guess," Davik said, rolling his eyes. "Come on Lal. You know better than to play the fool, eh? I taught you better than that, eh? It's bad enough that you try to steal one of my girls. And then I see you onna vids getting' inta gang business…I start thinkin'; what's Lal up to? Is she tryin' ta move on me? After all I done for her?"

"I suppose you think that's any of your business…" Lal growled.

Davik grinned at her. And backhanded her savagely. She dropped to the ground, blood spraying from her mouth. Davik stared down at her in disgust. "Such a pretty little girl. I'm gonna make you ugly, Lal. You got my word on that."

"Davik…you son of a…You gave me an impossible task…get close to the Sith…" Lal struggled back to her feet, but fell backwards on her bottom. "What do you think I was trying to do?"

"Aw come on. I ain't stupid. Running that gang race ain't got a thing t'do with the Sith."

"You're wrong," Lal gasped, rolling weakly onto her side. "I found out that th-the Vulkars were holding s-someone the Sith wanted. B-badly. A Jedi…named Bastila Shan."

Davik arched his eyebrows at Calo and Canderous.

"Th-that's right, Davik," Lal murmured, wiping her sleeve across her red mouth. "The race was part of an operation…to distract the gangs…while…while my people stole Bastila…"

Davik knelt down before Lal and brushed the hair from her eyes. "The vids showed you killing Brejik, baby. What's that got t'do with this Jedi?"

"It was a b-bonus," she hissed, hanging her head. "He green-lighted his boys to ambush me outside of the Daystar. Everyone involved in that is going to bleed." She accentuated her promise with a barbed glare at Calo.

"Lal…" Davik began, frowning in uncertainty.

"You don't trust me, fine," Lal glared up at him. "It won't hurt my feelings. But if you want me to do my job, then let me do my job. The way I see fit."

Davik sighed and snapped his fingers. "Take the Wookiee down below. You two;" he gestured to two of his boys. "Bring her."

Davik poured himself a straight shot of Flanna and watched as Lal stood in the fresher, washing the blood from her face. She had removed her shirt, which was soaked with blood anyway. And Davik noticed all the bruises along her ribcage. He saw the dark scar of a blaster shot on her shoulder.

"You been through the wringer, honey," he said, taking a sip.

Lal dabbed a towel to her face and swept her hair back from her face with wet hands. She hurled the towel away and stepped into Davik's office. Canderous stood by the door, his helmet cradled in his arm. Calo sat in a couch along the wall.

Davik sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

Lal tossed a wary glance at Canderous and Calo, and did as she was told. She wore only a thin halter top and a black leather skirt that gleamed as it drank up the light in the room. She tried to cross her legs casually, but the motion shoved a twinge of pain through her body.

Davik's eyes drifted down to the tops of her knees, just visible beyond the edge of his desk. "You been rode hard an' put away wet, alright," he told her. "Okay Lal. Tell me why I'm not cutting your tongue out right now."

"Because I'm telling you the truth."

"Uh-uh. Try it again, sweetness. See, I know some things. Fact: you stole the Twi'lek. She was primo skin, too. I'm sore about that. Fact: you been burnin' down Vulkars left and right, and I don't see that it had a hell of a lot t'do with this Jedi. Fact: unless I'm mistaken, you ain't got either the Jedi, or the Sith in your pocket. Not that there's a whole lotta room in that skirt for pockets. Heh. So call me a liar. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're…right. On all counts. I ordered Mission not to return to work. She…I can't explain it. I felt sorry for her. I've been killing Vulkars to find this Jedi. I had the Jedi in my possession. But when Canderous and his thugs attacked, she was able to escape. You can blame him for that."

"Is this true, Canderous"

Canderous shrugged. "I saw a woman. She may have been a Jedi. Since you told me only to retrieve Sideen, I was not concerned about this other one. However…she did not appear to be in Lal's custody. In fact, they seemed rather chummy to me."

Davik turned back to Lal for explanation.

"She trusts me," Lal said. "I did rescue her from the Vulkars."

"It's possible, I suppose," Canderous relented. "Not my style. But she works differently."

"You're a vile thug," Lal fired at him. "And you've damned near ruined everything."

"'Damned near'?" Davik asked, leaning forward over his drink. "Is there a way this can be salvaged?"

Lal purposely glanced at her wrist-comp to check the time. "Possibly. Did you injure Zaalbar?"

"Your Wookiee?" Davik asked. "He's in a holding cell downstairs. Are you expecting someone?"

"No," Lal said, smiling at Davik and taking a deep breath. "But you are. Or rather…you should be."

"Lal…I'm willin' ta give you benefit of the doubt. Given our history together. But don't torque me off. I'll kill you as soon as look at you."

"Why is that, Davik? Haven't I always done what you've told me? Have I ever betrayed you?"

"I…No, you haven't Lal. Of course you haven't. Alright. Tell me what's goin' on."

"First, Davik, let's take a walk, shall we?"

Zaalbar hung his head and moaned softly As Canderous' two hunters rather clumsily led him to the cells down below.

"Do either of you have an idea where we're going?" Bastila asked, pulling her helmet off. Beside her, Carth did the same, and shrugged.

Zaalbar sighed in dismay and shut the two humans out as they began arguing. For creatures with such a limited vocal range, humans sure did a lot of talking. They loved to hear themselves speak. He did his best to ignore them; he had determined a while ago that neither Carth nor Bastila really had anything important to say. But they seemed to be a positive influence on Lal. Well, Carth seemed to be, at least. But Zaalbar had grown tired of waiting for Carth to claim Lal as his mate. Human lifespans were too short for the elaborate courting rituals they seemed to prefer. Zaalbar was convinced Lal's disposition would be a lot more positive with a pup or two of her own.

Mission was good for Lal, too. Zaalbar liked Mission; liked the way she smelled. When the girl wasn't babbling about something or the other, her presence was actually quite soothing. He just hoped that Davik had not injured her. Zaalbar would rip the man's head free of his shoulders if Mission was hurt.

In any way.

Zaalbar let Bastila and Carth argue and scented the air. He inhaled deeply and tasted the air at the same time, hanging his mouth open. His nose had led them to the slave quarters, where the air was moist with the wet reek of human sex. Humans weren't entirely repulsive things, but their lack of fur meant their naturally sour scents escaped from their flesh to mingle with the air. Twi'leks had no body hair whatsoever, but even though they were bare-skins, they had a different chemical make-up than humans. Didn't stink.

He caught scent of at least two Twi'lek females and paused in the corridor. Carth and Bastila nearly collided into his back. He turned around and shushed their babbling. There was something else staining the air besides the Twi'lek scent. Something tangy.

Blood.

Zaalbar cried out in alarm and thundered towards the source of the scent. He led them to a door and scented again. He could smell a Twi'lek and a human, and sweat. The blood stink issued from the same place. Fear stumbled through his brain and he searched frantically for a keypad to open the door. He found a single flat panel and jammed it hard with his paw. The door hissed open and the blood scent slammed Zaalbar in the face.

"Mission!" Carth cried. Zaalbar looked and saw the little Twi'lek girl hanging from the far wall, suspended by a pair of manacles. Dark blood streaked her body, and she sagged limply. Zaalbar howled and glanced around the room. He saw a fat human whose knuckles were painted maroon with Mission's blood.

Zaalbar bared his fangs in challenge and hurled himself at the man with a savage snarl. The man raised a bloodied knife to ward Zaalbar off, but the Wookiee let the blade slide off his thick coat. A massive paw slammed down on the man's forearm, shattering it.

The human screamed, but Zaalbar clamped a paw over his mouth. He squeezed, popping the man's jaw out of joint. Zaalbar swung the human around and into a wall. He heard the human's spine crack wetly and watched him slide to the floor.

"Oh no, Mission!" Carth gasped, moving to her side. Zaalbar stormed towards mission and shoved Carth out of the way. He cradled Mission gently, holding her up in his arms. He crooned softly to her to wake up, but her eyes were swollen shut. She hung limply in Zaalbar's grasp and he saw cuts and slashes all over her body. He moaned as he searched for a pulse, but the thick pads on his fingertips kept him from finding it. Or maybe she was dead.

"Zaalbar," Bastila whispered at his side. "Please let me help."

Zaalbar wondered exactly what the Jedi could possibly do. Bastila reached out to touch the side of Mission's throat. And suddenly, the girl's left eye opened. She coughed weakly, spitting forth a thread of blood.

"Lal," she gurgled, staring into Bastila's eyes. "I'm so glad you came for me…I'm so sleepy…"

Bastila gently slapped Mission's cheek to keep her awake. "Stay with us, Mission. Zaalbar's here. Lal is here too."

Mission nodded and her head lolled against Zaalbar's chest. Zaalbar howled at the girl to stay awake. "Mmm awake," she grunted.

"Hold still, Mission," Bastila said. She reached out and pressed her hand against Mission's brow. Zaalbar stared between the two in confusion; Bastila's eyes fluttered closed as he watched, and beads of sweat broke out along her brow. Bastila sucked in a deep breath between trembling lips and held it in. Her face reddened and Zaalbar saw a vein along her temple tense.

And then Mission released a deep breath. Mission looked up At Zaalbar and Bastila, opening her left eye; the other remained badly swollen. She stood up in Zaalbar's grasp and the Wookiee's eyes watered. He cried out in disbelief and amazement and hugged Mission gently to his body.

"Hey b-big Z…" she murmured.

Bastila swayed dizzily, and reached out to grab Zaalbar's shoulder for support. Carth stepped forward to hold her, but Bastila smiled weakly and waved his hands away. "Mission, how do you feel?"

"I feel l-like I'm chained up in a dungeon and have just b-been t-tortured…"

"Hold still, Mission," Bastila warned, unleashing her lightsaber. She just barely touched it to the manacles around Missions wrists, and the heavy links popped free in a shower of sparks. Mission staggered into Zaalbar's grasp, but she managed to stand on her own.

Zaalbar told her that she would have died without Bastila's help. He'd never seen anything quite like it. Mission glanced up at him, piecing together his words effortlessly. Carth and Bastila had a bit more trouble. Mission turned to Bastila and nodded her thanks.

"So guys…what's the plan?"

"Lal's here," Carth said, squeezing Mission's shoulder.

"Oh no…" Mission moaned softly. "It's a trap! I was the bait…Carth, they're gonna kill her!"

Carth swallowed and glanced at both Zaalbar and Bastila. "Listen, Mission, we know it's a trap. We snuck in. Lal's doing her best to distract this guy's attention…"

"Everything will be alright, Mission," Bastila told her. "I promise I won't allow any harm to come to Lal. Do not worry. We shall make it through this."

Zaalbar wasn't so sure, but he said nothing. They'd probably misunderstand him anyway.

Carth glanced at his wrist-chrono and sighed. "Okay Zaalbar, if that droid's on-schedule, we should be go. Here's where we part company, big guy. Good luck."

Zaalbar laid a paw on Carth's shoulder and asked him to promise to protect Lal.

Carth smiled up at the Wookiee and glanced at Bastila. "Don't worry big guy. We'll bring her back for you."

AyVee puttered along, skimming the ceilings of Davik's stronghold; happily, he streamed a comforting data tree through his main processors, finding an almost musical harmonic to the numbers composing the data his sensors gathered. Several times, he almost stopped to examine the data stream more closely, but his programming architecture reminded him he was on a mission to serve The Lal.

AyVee distantly realized that he required constant reminding of his tasks. For some reason, he grew easily distracted. He could hardly be blamed for this, he decided; he was experiencing the world for the first time, after all. He had a responsibility to gather as much information as possible.

For example, colors: AyVee had already compiled extensive information about colors. He had classified nearly ten million colors already, the overwhelming majority of which went unnoticed by simplistic organic visual receptors. Who would take the time to sit back and appreciate the spectrum of visual variation that was color? Organics did not seem to have time…or the multi-tasking capabilities.

Then, there was language: his databanks had extensive files about various spoken languages, but in his monitoring of lower band global transmissions, he had begun to compile a database on a variety of previously unclassified dialects and so-called "patois". Organic communication was a patchwork of astounding variety and versatility. Invariably, this led him to some dismay over his own hideously under-appreciated digital communication. Even the Lal had yet to fully grasp his method of speech. Certainly, it would have been easier if he had been designed to communicate in simple idiot Basic, but his design architecture had already been stuffed with so many capabilities.

Perhaps his Maker simply had no more room for conventional speech.

As he zipped along, his passive sensors alerted him to an intermittent energy signature a few meters ahead of him. He switched to visual scans and noticed a security vid mounted high on the wall before him. These vids presented something of a nuisance to him; in theory, he should have been able to access a central security network to then manipulate the data streams controlling each vid monitor. But each of these vids was modular, and had independent system access. It was tiresome.

He pinged the vid's control module and established a floating link. Since the camera's images were stored digitally, it was an easy task to compile a three second recording loop to allow him to slip by unseen. It was easy, yes. But it was irritating to have to do this separately for each vid he encountered. The Lal required him to be more efficient.

AyVee came to the grating of a ventilation shaft. Checking his records for the estate's layout, he decided that this was the shaft he needed to enter. He deployed his prime-tertiary manipular assembly (which organics short-sightedly referred to as "one of his arms") and configured the multi-tool at the end of it to remove each of the four screws holding the grate in place. With his sub-primary manipular assembly (which organics referred to as "one of his other arms") he magnetically clamped onto the grate so that it would not fall and strike the heads of the inattentive organic units below smoking some sort of addictive contraband.

He slipped up into the shaft and replaced the grate behind him. He spent a few more seconds replacing the screws, and floated through the shafts to his objective. EM sensors located the steady pulse of a massive power signature on the other side of the shaft wall. Switching briefly to IR, he determined there were no organics or other autonomous mechanical units in the room beyond. He deployed his prime-quaternary manipular assembly, and activated a vibrosaw on the end of it. With a high pitched whine, the saw sliced away a small section of the shaft wall. It fell away and he slipped his manipular interface assembly into the gap. On the other side of the wall, there stood a computer mainframe. Hiding here, he could access it without being interrupted by organics.

He tapped into the security menu and flung some codes at the system watchdog. He slipped into the secure files with ease, and located the subsystems governing the launch bay. He stifled a happy beep as he began deactivating security systems. As he did so, he inserted a ping response that would make the computer think the systems were still active.

He almost disconnected from the system then, but remembered The Lal had assigned him another task. AyVee enjoyed being given extra responsibilities.

"Are you sure this is the way back?" Carth asked Bastila once more.

The young woman sighed irritably and glared back at him. "Carth, for the last time: Jedi practice meditation to improve our memory. With a little bit of time, I can recall anything I've ever read or seen. So do please stop nagging, hmm?"

Carth shrugged and cast a glance around the corridor they stood in. "It's just that…well it looks like we've been here before is all…"

"That has a large amount to do with the fact that these corridors have a uniform construction, I should think. Now, let's keep moving, shall we?'

Carth nodded reluctantly and followed her to a door at the end of the corridor. The door hissed open at their approach and they stepped into a wide vast chamber that reminded Carth very much of some sort of throne room. A great golden sculpture hung from the ceiling; a series of concentric rings, each of which hung lower than the one above it. Muted lighting oozed forth from each of the rings, casting a platinum glow across the room.

"So, Bastila, I've been wondering about something."

"Of course you have, Carth…"

"I don't like lying to Lal, Bastila. She's been straight with me, and I think she's entitled to the same respect from us."

"I understand your concerns, Carth. But I don't need to remind you she lacks the appropriate security clearance…given she's not even allied with the Republic!"

"Bastila, that's just crap, and you know it…"

"Carth! Do you think, perhaps, that this discussion could be shelved for a slightly more appropriate time?"

"Alright, Bastila. Fine."

"No time like the present, I says," called a voice over a loudspeaker. Carth and Bastila both unleashed their weapons and pressed their backs together. Doors opened on each of the walls, and Davik's muscleboys trundled in.

"Hell," Carth hissed, staring at all the blasters aimed in their direction. "I guess it doesn't need to be said that we seem to be outnumbered…"

"No," Bastila muttered back to him. "But why don't you go ahead and say it anyway?"

"Alright, alright," Davik said, emerging from a doorway behind his troops. He gripped Lal roughly by her arm, and her features were clenched in pain. Carth could see the blaster wound on her shoulder had opened up and was oozing a clear liquid. Behind her Canderous loomed in his armor. When Carth saw Lal's face, he knew the plan had gone sour; Canderous! Damned Mandalorian. Carth silently promised that Canderous would be the first to die.

"Looks like we got rats in the maze," Davik chuckled, glancing at the short squat barrel of a man to his right. "What do you think, Calo?"

The man glared at Carth and Bastila behind a pair of dark goggles and sneered. "I definitely smell a rat somewhere, Davik."

Davik smiled broadly and released Lal. He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her cheek. "Well, honey, I gotta hand it to ya: You do deliver."

Carth frowned in confusion at Lal. A sick feeling suffused his belly as she simply stared impassively back at him. "Lal…"

"Sorry Carth," she said, holding her sore arm. "I have my loyalties. Davik has always been there for me."

Bastila whirled to face Lal. "Lal, what are you talking about? I thought…"

"Basi, I don't really care what you thought," Lal told her sharply, shocking the Jedi into silence. "Put your weapons down."

Bastila worked it out, surfaced from her confusion and realized Lal's betrayal. "Lal…you must know we will not surrender! This can only end in blood."

"Either way works for me, sweetheart," Davik chuckled, sliding his arm around Lal's waist. "I'd prefer to deliver you to the Sith alive, but I'm sure they won't mind if you come with a few holes in you."

"Lal," Carth called, "Don't do this!"

Bastila snarled angrily. "She's beyond our reach, Carth! She's chosen her side!"

"Carth," Lal said slowly, lowering her face, "I just wanted you to know something…you're an excellent lover…and for a brief time, I found some solace in your arms. But I'm sorry…it was all a lie…"

Carth opened his mouth to reply, but his brain stuttered. What the hell was she talking about? She knew damned well that they had never…Then he noticed Lal's hand, her injured arm, holding her palm flat above the floor…a message?

Carth fought with his instincts, warred with his intellect. He watched Lal's eyes widen at him, as if urging him, commanding him silently…

And in the end, he did as his heart commanded.

The lights went out, and Carth threw himself over Bastila, hauling her to the floor beneath him. Shots rang out in the sudden darkness, piercing the air above their heads.

"Hold your fire, damn it!" Davik roared. "What the hell is goin' on?"

Screams rang out on all sides as Davik's thugs continued to fire in panic, shooting each other in a crossfire. Carth saw flashes of bodies falling in the flicker of blasterfire, strobing in the darkness. Bastila struggled beneath him and started to call out his name. But Carth clamped his hand over Bastila's mouth, and made himself trust Lal.

As the lights exploded and died, Lal issued a silent thank you to her droid and promised to give him an oil bath. If any of them survived. Lal actually hadn't given much thought to surviving; it had ceased to be a priority when she had been told Mission had been taken by Davik. But, if all had gone according to plan, both Mission and Zaalbar would be safe aboard the Ebon Hawk. And there would be nothing between Lal and Davik Kang.

She dropped her hand behind her and Canderous slapped a blaster into her palm. It was tiny hold-out model, but would do the job. She blindly reached out beside her and chopped her hand into the hollow of Davik's throat. He staggered backwards with a gurgle, and she shoved her blaster up under his chin.

"I would have been satisfied to let you go your way, Davik," she hissed. "But you had to push me."

"Bitch," Davik hissed. "You lying, lousy piece of crap! You ain't getting' outta here alive!"

"I wasn't planning on it, Davik."

He released a frantic gasp at her words, and swallowed a dry lump in his throat. "Is…that…so?"

"Goodbye Davik."

"Wait…" he fumbled desperately. "If you k-kill me…you'll never know who you really are…!"

"I'm a killer, Davik. A devil who doesn't deserve to live. I'm what you made me."

"Nah…n-no…I didn't make you, Lal…Sure, I…I used you, b-but I didn't make you…you just don't remember…You didn't lose your m-memory in any speeder crash…you never had it!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Heh…there's the rub, huh? If you kill me, you'll never know…"

Her moment of hesitation was exactly what Davik sought. His hand flashed over a switch on his wrist. A flicker of blue light surrounded his body. Lal squeezed the trigger, but her shot flashed harmlessly against and energy screen clinging tightly to his body.

"No!" she cried as Davik shoved his elbow into her injured ribs. She gasped in pain and fell to the floor. She fought through the pain of the impact and immediately rolled to the side.

Davik whipped out a blaster and fired where she had fallen. "You're dead, Lal! Dead! Nobody crosses Davik Kang! Nobody!"

Lal pushed up onto all fours and spun around. She kicked her leg out in a low circle and swept Davik's legs from beneath him. He crashed onto his back and the blaster fell from his hand. The energy shield he'd activated would protect him from blasterfire, but not from kinetic energy. Lal leaped atop him and fired three lightning punches into his side.

His body clenched in pain, and she tried to pin his shoulders beneath her knees. Lal had the skill, but her lean body didn't have Davik's strength. With a roar, he hauled her over onto her back, slamming her against the floor. He levered himself atop her and dropped his elbow deep into her chest. Pain exploded in her lungs, pressing the air from her. He leaned in close to her and sneered furiously. "You're gonna die now, Lal…"

Calo Nord switched his goggles to IR half a second after the lights died. He dropped to one knee and whipped out his twin blasters to take aim at Lal Sideen. He found her whirling body flashing and blurring faster than he could follow. Damn but she was fast. Nobody was that fast. Nobody!

He tried to get her in his line of sight, but she went down in a tumble with Davik. And then a voice whispered in his ear…

"Hey, Calo…"

Nord whirled around to fire at Canderous, but the Mandalorian slapped his blasters aside and stiff-armed Calo right under his chin. Calo staggered back, his brain rattling around in his skull. He moved on instinct, switching his goggles to UV as he palmed a heat flare from his belt. He dropped it directly in front of Canderous and dashed to the side. The flare exploded in a harmless shower of intense heat; anyone using an infrared visor would have been blinded by it.

As Calo guessed, Canderous' helmet visor was tuned into IR. The Mandalorian shielded his faceplate with his hand and staggered backwards. Calo scanned about for his weapons, but couldn't find them. Cursing, he pulled a collapsed shock staff from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the staff extended five feet and crackled with energy at the tips. He spun the staff expertly and jabbed one end into Canderous' belly. The shock hurled the Mandalorian several feet through the air.

"Good night, old dog," Calo chuckled.

A mistake. Canderous sprawled on the floor, blinded, but he flung a trio of tiny blades unerringly towards the sound of Calo's voice. Calo desperately twisted to shield his face and throat, but the blades lanced into his chest and shoulder. He snarled in pain and fell heavily to the floor. He could hear Canderous chuckling, the sound of stones tumbling down a mountainside.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder as he scrambled away from the man, and wished he hadn't. Canderous lifting his arm toward Calo, and a stream of flame roared from a nozzle on his wrist. Calo screamed as the fire washed over his body.

"Dying time's here, Calo," Canderous laughed as Calo burned.

Canderous felt a decidedly unprofessional wave of glee as he switched to Low Light inside his helmet and deployed his flame thrower. He splashed the stream of fire over Calo's crawling body and emptied the jet of flame on him. Calo writhed and twisted and burned and screeched shrilly. Canderous pulled a wickedly curved blade from the back of his belt and walked slowly towards Calo. He lifted the blade high over the burning man, but a body crashed into him.

Canderous snarled and grabbed the man by the back of his hair. He tugged his head back and drew his knife across the man's throat. He kicked the gurgling thug away and turned back to Calo. All he saw was a burning, empty coat.

Calo was gone.

Carth hauled Bastila to her feet and the two of them stumbled in the dark towards a wall. Carth pressed her forward, and felt along the wall for the doorway they had come through. "Keep your head down," he hissed as blasterfire wildly cut through the darkness. "Let these idiots kill themselves."

"Carth, if you do not release me, I will make you," Bastila hissed.

"Bastila, dammit, we've got to get to the ship!"

Bastila gathered her telekinetic will and shoved Carth against the wall. Her eyes flashed dangerously at him. "Do not interfere, Captain Onasi!" She saw the sudden flicker of fear in his gaze, and shame washed through her. Her face softened, and she reached a tentative hand out to him. "Carth. Go. I will join you. I will finish this on my own."

Bastila whirled away from him and leaped into the darkness.

Lal struggled to push Davik from her, but he pressed in close and laid a kiss against her cheek.

"it's been a great ride, Lal," he chuckled. "You've been a great ride…heh. I owe my success to you and your talents, Lal! I used you like a--"

She levered her leg in between his and slammed her knee into his groin. His body froze for a second and she shoved him onto his side. She twisted her body and shoved her foot into his face. She could feel his nose splatter beneath her boot. He screamed in agony and she scrambled to her feet. She whirled around looking for a weapon, and saw a vibrosword laying in the floor, splattered with blood. She dashed for it, but his hand snared about her ankle. She crashed face-first into the floor, smashing her forehead.

Stars flashed before her eyes, and she distantly felt him crawling back atop her body. She stretched her fingers out to grasp the hilt of the sword, but he hammered a fist into the back of her skull.

He rolled her over beneath him and levered his forearm under her chin, squeezing her throat shut. Lal gasped for breath as he grinned down at her. With his free hand, he drew a knife from his belt. He showed it to her, breathing heavily against her cheek, and then drove it up into her ribs.

Lal's thoughts exploded in a shower of crimson, and moist darkness clutched at her awareness.

"Now, you die…Jedi…" he hissed victoriously.

Jedi.

That's what he said. He called her Jedi. But why? What was he talking about?

Lal opened her eyes without realizing she'd closed them. His face seemed so clear and stark, even in the darkness. She'd stopped breathing. There was no more air to draw into her lungs. No more anger to fuel her fires. But there was heat. She'd imagined there would be cold as she died, not heat. But there was warmth. A strange, comforting warm that made her limbs light and airy.

It took no effort to lift her arm, to press her hand into his face. To stab her thumb into the soft orb of his eye. Distantly, she heard a man scream. Through a fuzzy haze, she saw Davik flip onto his back and writhe wildly about, clutching his face.

Lal felt hands tugging the knife from her chest. She glanced down and saw that they were her own hands, painted red. Her vision blurred into a sheen of red, and when her eyes cleared, she saw herself holding the dagger before her face. It, too was red.

She then realized that she was standing. She stumbled. Onto her knees. Wetness coursed down her belly, onto the floor. Her hand slipped from under her, and her vision blurred once more.

When she could see again, she was mounted upon Davik's chest. He squealed and churned between her thighs. His face was painted red too. Her hands commanded her. They grasped the knife together and slowly, laboriously thrust downward. The skin of his throat tore like ripe fruit. His blood sprayed her face and arms, and he gasped breathlessly. His body shuddered beneath her and went still as she felt the blade strike into the floor below him.

She glanced down at herself and collapsed to the side. Everything went black. And in the distance, she heard someone humming.

Lal! Lal, it's time to get up! We have to go! You have to wake up! You have…to…wake…up…